


Oh Baby!

by SLunne



Series: Oh Baby! [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ageplay, BigBrother!Sam, Cursed, Daddy!Sam, Diapers, Dub-Con Infantilism, Humiliation, Infantilism, Kidnapping, Non sexual ageplay, Pacifiers, baby!dean - Freeform, cursed!Dean, daddy!castiel, non-con infantilism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 12:41:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2025453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLunne/pseuds/SLunne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"While on a hunt with Sam and Castiel, Dean catches the witch before them. His typical smart mouth "baby" comments only serve to piss the witch off, who puts a curse on Dean. Now everyone in the entire world sees Dean as a baby, and treats him that way as well, including Sam, Castiel, and even the heavenly dick squad. Dean is stuck in diapers, and not happy about it...not one bit."</p><p>spnkink meme fill </p><p>Cursed by a witch, Dean has to deal with being perceived as a baby while dealing with the apocalypse. Infantilism with apocalypse plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester was sick of his rotten luck.

As if the impending apocalypse, with both heaven and hell pitted for the utter destruction of earth an mankind (not to mention the fact that both he and his brother seemed to be key players), wasn’t enough, monsters and supernatural entities all over the fucking country were going bat-shit _crazy_. It was as if every creature knew what was coming, and were deciding to cause as much mayhem and destruction as they could before the world could end.

Despite the fact that there were still bigger fish to fry than the average angry spirit or rampaging ghoul, the ultimate goal was to save as many lives as they possibly could. And since the crudely dubbed “Team Free Will” still had no idea how they were going to ice the devil and hold back the head archangel, the most they could do was keep out of sight and out of reach to the two douche bag angels who wanted to wear Dean and Sam like triple X condoms in a “who’s bigger” showdown.

But since the End of Days was currently being delayed, the weaker offenders were taking the go ahead to hunt, maim, and kill with more gusto than ever before, leaving the Winchester brothers to deal with the mess.

Hunts seemed to come non stop, and Dean could feel the overexertion in the form of a pounding headache as he scoured the back halls of the abandoned mental asylum, squinting in the feeble light of his flashlight for any sign of the thing that had been causing the bizarre accidents killing people in town.

They were almost certain that it was a witch. Or two witches having a pissing contest. There wasn’t a single pattern, just numerous cases of increasingly violent and humiliating curse-like events, and the death poll was getting much too high for comfort.

Normally witches didn’t hang out in such creepy places (the only good thing about them in Dean’s book), but locals had reported seeing small fires and lights on inside the abandoned buildings here, giving Sam enough reason to believe a witch was using the old grounds as a sort of base. Sam was taking the front building while Dean looked in the one behind it. Normally Dean wouldn’t have wanted to split up while looking for something as tricky and annoying as a witch, but if he was being completely honest with himself, he still didn’t trust Sam fully yet.

Dean knew he couldn’t really blame Sam. He’d gone and left his little brother alone when he’d gone to hell, completely distraught and desperate, not to mention guilty as hell if it was anything like how Dean had felt after John had done the same thing. Of course Sam would be vulnerable to Ruby’s manipulations. The need for revenge ran deep in Winchester veins, and having a pretty girl providing you with a means to said revenge was an understandable temptation. But Dean just couldn’t forget the darkness in Sam when he had returned from hell, the animalistic look in his eyes when he was hyped up on demon blood. And then Sam had chosen Ruby…a _demon_ over him…his own brother.

That hurt more than Dean would like to admit. The whole reason Sam had started down that path to begin with was _because of him_ , and yet when Dean was right there, alive and breathing, trying his damnedest to get Sam to stay with him, Sam had left. Walked out the door.

And let Lucifer free from Hell.

Dean knew that Sam would do anything to take it all back. He knew that if he’d known, Sam would never have taken his first hit of blood. Dean wanted to forgive Sam, to forget everything that had happened and just be _brothers_ again, but the sting of betrayal felt just as fresh as it had when he’d lain beaten on the hotel floor.

The separation wasn’t smart on a hunt like this, but Dean just wanted some space, even though he knew it wasn’t what he needed.

Sam had seemed more or less certain that the witch was only using this place to cast spells, and not as a permanent place of residence. After ten minutes of looking around at the mildew and creepy abandoned hospital equipment, Dean was inclined to agree. If they could pinpoint where the witch was doing the casting, they could lay a trap, and hopefully never encounter the bitch face to face until it was all said and done.

But Dean should have known…when did their plans ever actually work out?

He knew he was close when the smell in the air changed, the decaying scent suddenly dispersed by potent herbs and burned hair. The smell seemed strongest next to the only patient door Dean had seen with the glass still intact. Room 13…of course. He clicked the flashlight off, sneaking up to the door as quietly as he could. With his back pressed against the wall, he stopped breathing, listening intently for any signs that the room wasn’t devoid of all life.

After a few moments of silence, he figured the cost was clear enough. He put his hand gently on the door handle. Locked.

“Yeah, not suspicious at all,” Dean grunted under his breath. Pressing down firmly on the handle, he threw his weight at the door, forcing it open with his shoulder and shoving his way inside the room.

Which was definitely not your typical abandoned asylum cell.

Deep blue walls accented in gold framed the pentagonal room, the abundance of overstuffed couches and elegantly finished wooden tables took up every bit of available space. The natural chill of the late fall night that had previously given Dean reason to wish he owned a thicker coat was instantly chased away by the crackling fire burning in the stone hearth.

And as the door slammed shut behind Dean, making him twist around in surprise, he realized that the room was definitely a permanent residence.

“Well, well, if it isn’t a little hunter,” said a smooth voice behind him. In an instant Dean had turned back around, his gun raised towards the source of the voice.

A small girl sat perched on the edge of a table that Dean swore had been empty a few seconds ago. She had a tiny, child-like face with wide, dark eyes that had no business looking so cold. Her legs crossed neatly over one another, and she sat with her head resting on her right hand, and a white lotus flower twirling slowly in her left. She was strikingly beautiful, almost like a face Dean might see in the newest edition of “Busty Asian Beauties.”

“Little? No offence sweetheart, but I’m pretty sure I have a few inches on you,” Dean said, holding his gun steady despite the symphony of _‘Oh crap, shit, fucking hell…’_ going on in his head.

The girl stopped spinning the flower between her fingers and scowled. “Aren’t you a little bit young to be playing with guns?” she said in a condescending voice, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Dean felt annoyance flare up. “Trust me, I can handle the equipment just fine, baby.”

“You shouldn’t speak to me like that,” the girl said dangerously, sliding down from the table, and dammit, someone that short should _not_ have been that intimidating. Dean cocked the safety on the gun tensing up his shoulders in preparation to shoot, but the girl didn’t move from where she stood.

“It sickens me to see juvenescence like you meddling in place you shouldn’t be near. Why must you tempt death? Why can’t you leave danger well enough alone?”

“What are you, my mother?” Dean said incredulously. “Normally I wouldn’t have a problem leaving you alone, but I won’t sit back and let you kill people just because you feel like you can!”

The girl looked like she’d been struck. “You think…that _I’m_ the one who’s been killing everyone? Killing _children_? You’re going to put the blame on _me_?”

“Freaky witch lady living in an abandoned mental asylum, with deaths and near fatal injuries on the daily,” he said in a falsely thoughtful tone. “I think you fit the bill pretty nicely, babycakes.”

_“Enough!”_ she hissed, and Dean was suddenly flying backwards through the air, slamming hard against the wall as his gun hit the floor.

“You, little hunter, have _no_ idea what you’re talking about,” she stalked slowly forwards, her black eyes shining in the firelight. “I am no killer, I’m a protector.”

“Yeah? Well you’re doing a pretty shitty job in that case, lady,” Dean hissed.

Faster than he could blink, the girl was in his face, and she shoved something between his teeth. The gag filled up his mouth, some kind of rubber pressing against his tongue. There was nothing keeping the gag in place, and he should have been able to spit it out.

But for some reason…Dean found that he could no longer move.

“Don’t bother fighting it,” the witch said, as if she were reading Dean’s thoughts. “You won’t be able to do much with that in.”

The strength in Dean’s legs seemed to have been sapped away, and he was helpless as he slid to the floor, only slowed by the girl’s hand on his arm. She knelt down on the floor in front of Dean staring at his face intently. Dean would have flinched when she began to run her fingers across his brow had he been able to move beyond the automatic inhale and exhale of his lungs.

“Look at you,” she whispered, almost to herself. “You pretend to be so big. But I can see the truth. So beaten…so broken…lost in the wake of hellfire…” Her voice sounded almost sad, mournful. Dean was struggling internally, desperately trying to move _something_ , defend himself from this crazy witch still touching his face.

“So lost…” she said again, and then her voice became angry again. “And yet you cover yourself with arrogance and pride. I won’t stand for it. Not any longer.” The light touches from her fingers changed into a harsh pressure, her palm pushed forcefully against his forehead as the other hand came up to press against his heart. “Its time you were put back into your rightful place, _akago.”_

Everything began spinning. The whole world seemed to be shifting and changing around him, and then Dean felt himself being caught up in the whirlwind, anchored only by the feeling of the girl’s hands pressed against his head and his chest.

Slowly the world came to a halt beneath him, and Dean felt like he might hurl.

“There, that ought to do it,” the witch said, getting to her feet as she looked down at Dean, a pleasant sort of smile on her face. “I could change you as well…but you wouldn’t heal that way. I spoke the truth before, little one. I am a protector, and I believe my magic will not be wasted on you.”

The witch turned her back on Dean, walking towards the center of the room. “Your brother shouldn’t be far away,” she mused to herself, looking around the room carefully. “You won’t be left alone long, so there isn’t any need to worry. It’s a shame to have to move again, but I suppose its for the best.”

The girl looked over her shoulder at the slumped form of Dean on the ground, and gave him a warm sort of smile that was creepy as _fuck_. “Goodbye, Dean Winchester. Perhaps I’ll see you again someday. Oh, and one last word of advice? There’s no escaping, only acceptance.” 

There was a blinding flash of light, and suddenly Dean sat alone in a shabby, four walled room with broken drywall, glass, and mold scattered all over the surface of the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was fucked.

His head was lolled uncomfortably to the side from when the witch had released his head, slumped precariously against the wall, and even worse, his ass was cold and sopping wet from something he must be sitting in. He’d give anything at this point to move, even just a little bit. But the only movements he could make were the slow blinking from his eyes and the occasional feeble push at the gag with his tongue.

Whatever that witch had done to him, it was obvious that the gag was keeping him immobile. Dean pushed against the rubber inside his mouth, and again the gag moved slightly out against his lips before the muscles in his cheeks involuntarily sucked it right back into place. Fuck.

Dean didn’t want Sam to find him. Here he was, sprawled out across the floor with no visible means of restraint, yet completely helpless until somebody came. He wasn’t weak for christ’s sake. He was a hunter, a demon killer. He’d survived Hell and defied angels. Dean was right smack in the middle of the apocalypse, and the fact that he’d been taken down by a stupid witch when they had the armies of heaven and hell to deal with (not to mention the god-dammed Devil), such an utter failure was fucking embarrassing. So, especially since Sam had proved that he was all too susceptible to demonic influences, no, Dean didn’t want Sam to see him like this.

Then again, the longer it took Sam to find him, the longer he’d be forced to sit here like a vegetable.

The witch had said that Sam would be here soon. And didn’t that just creep him out even more than her whole bizarre mother-psycho act. How could she have known where Sam was? And how the hell did she know his name for that matter! There was something weird going on here, and Dean needed to get out so he could figure out what.

Suddenly Dean could make out the distant sound of footsteps blundering hastily down the hallway, and Sam’s muffled voice was calling out his name.

Dean tried to answer, he really did, but a sort of groan was all he could manage. That must have been enough, because a few seconds later, the door next to Dean was bursting open, and a panicked looking Sam barreled into the room.

“Dean!?” he whispered harshly, his twisting around frantically until his eyes landed on Dean, looking up at him from the floor. “Dean! Oh thank god,” Sam said in relief, at Dean’s side in an instant as he moved Dean’s head and neck up against him and pulled the gag out of Dean’s mouth with his left hand.

“Shit…how did I even let this happen?” Sam cursed to himself.

Dean, who found it very unpleasant to be manhandled by his brother, was extremely pissed to find that the removal of the gag hadn’t granted him instant access to all his muscle groups. Instead, it was like all his limbs were slowly waking up, a prickling feeling racing up and down his skin.

“S’mmy,” he struggled. “The witch was here. She did somethin’ to me Sam, I-“

“Yeah, its me buddy. Its Sammy. I’m right here,” Sam practically cooed, interrupting Dean completely as one of his mammoth sized hands ran through Dean’s hair.

What the fuck?

Dean looked at Sam like he’d gone crazy. He was still bundled up, his torso cradled against Sam like he was a friggin doll. Dean looked in confusion at the worried look in Sam’s eyes, when something on Sam’s hand caught his eye.

Sam’s finger was still looped through a ring on the front of the gag he had pulled from Dean’s mouth…except…

Was that a fucking pacifier?!

“Dude what the hell–” Dean started as he pushed desperately against the hold Sam had on his body, but Sam tightened his arm around Dean so that he couldn’t move away.

“It’s okay, it’s okay Dean, we’re getting out of here right now. I promise, okay?”

Faster than Dean could follow, Sam slid his arms under Dean and stood, scooping Dean up as he started out of the room. Dean gave a startled yell, his hand flying up to grip at the front of Sam’s shirt.

“Shhh, baby,” Sam was hushing him instantly, pulling Dean’s body up closer to his chest as he half ran down the hallway. “I need you to be quiet, okay? Please be quiet for me.”

“Sam! Put me down, dammit!” Dean snarled, pushing with all his might against Sam. And yeah, Sam was a freaking giant, but he shouldn’t have been this strong! “I can walk perfectly fine on my own!”

Technically speaking, that wasn’t true. The muscles in Dean’s legs were still feeling like jell-o hooked up to a spark plug. But he was too disgruntled from being carried by his kid brother to admit his own weakness.

Sam more or less ignored Dean’s struggling, his brother’s flailing arms hardly effecting him. He turned a sharp corner, darting into a crevice made by a collapsing wall and an old desk, and began making shushing noises at Dean again, bouncing him slightly up and down in his arms as his eyes darted, nervous and scared for any signs of the witch.

“SAM!” Dean yelled, his voice muffled significantly from the way his face was smashed up against Sam’s shoulder as he felt Sam sit down on the desk so that Dean was now sitting in his lap.

“Please don’t do this, baby boy,” Sam murmured in Deans ear, one hand sliding up his back to rub the fingers against the back of his head. “I know you’re unhappy, but I’m doing the best I can here!”

And this experience was going straight on to Dean Winchester’s “never mention ever fucking again” list.

“This would be a lot fucking easier if you’d just stop acting like a crazy fu–”

But the rest of Dean’s sentence was cut off by Sam shoving the god damn pacifier (and why the HELL did Sam still have that thing?!) back into his open mouth. Just as before, the effect was instant, and Dean lost all ability to move.

“It’s okay, Dean. Sammy’s gonna take care of you, I promise,” Sam whispered as he stood carefully from the desk, shifting Dean around in his arms.

So there Dean lay, wrapped up in Sam’s arms, one supporting his head and back, the other cradling his ass, and as he screamed profanities inside his head, realization settled over him as gently as an avalanche. 

He was SO fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam’s obsessive worry that the witch would pop out at any moment to curse them to the grave proved to be unfounded.

 _‘Because she already fucking got me!’_ Dean swore mentally.

They’d been in the absolute back of the asylum when Sam had gone all freaky and decided that Dean couldn’t be trusted to use his own two legs for anything. Dean had been carried all the way back to the front of the building, and he wondered how the hell Sam was still holding him like he did this all the time.

Sam half ran, half jogged across the abandoned grounds, squeezing himself and his immobile brother through the opening in the gate they’d created earlier, and headed towards the trees where they’d hidden the Impala upon arriving. For a moment Sam struggled, trying to balance Dean in his arms while trying to pull the keys out of his jacket pocket.

 _‘Dude seriously?’_ Dean thought incredulously. It was like Sam suddenly couldn’t bare the thought of setting Dean on the ground, even just long enough to unlock the freaking car. And even though Dean could hear the jangling of the keys in Sam’s pocket, he couldn’t help but wonder why they weren’t in _his_ jacket pocket. He was the one who drove his car!

“Sam,” a deep voice sounded from behind, making Sam (and subsequently Dean) twist around. Castiel was standing less than a foot from them, his hair looking especially windswept. “I sensed that Dean was in distress, and I searched for you as quickly as I could. Is everything alright?”

Dean had never been so happy to the nerdy angel in his life. _‘Cas, thank god. Help me out here, Sam’s gone psycho on me,’_ Dean thought at Castiel in a mockery of a prayer.

“Cas, the witch was here,” Sam said, shifting nervously where he stood. “I think she may have gotten to Dean. I found him all the way in the back of one of the buildings.”

Cas’ eyes narrowed slightly, and he turned his eyes down towards Dean.

And yeah, Dean knew that Castiel’s experience with humanity was severely limited, but even _he_ should have been able to recognize that being cradled by your younger brother wasn’t normal! _‘Cas! Help me man!’_

“His thoughts are frantic,” Castiel said, “but he seems to recognize me.” He lifted up an arm and pressed his hand against Dean’s forehead, his palm impossibly warm in contrast to the cold night air. After a moment of (awkward) assessment, he said, “There is no physical injury, and I do not believe he has sustained any sort of mental affliction. At most, he is frightened, and perhaps in need of a change.”

Dean could feel Sam’s sigh of relief. “We can deal with that back at the room. Could you help me get him in the car?”

 _‘Frightened my ass!’_ Dean raged silently as Sam began to place him into Cas’ arms. The angel’s hold on Dean was less possessive than Sam’s, but insanely stronger. Even if Dean had been able to move, he would have been locked into place, his arms pressed between his chest and a trenchcoat-wearing-wall. Despite his disappearing tricks and obvious separation from humanity, sometimes it was easy to forget the kind of power Castiel had. Dean was suddenly reminded of his first meeting with the angel, the way he’d blown into the barn, power raging like storm around him. Dean had felt ridiculously small in that instant, and now he felt exactly the same, bundled up against an angel’s chest and completely helpless. _‘This sucks balls.’_

Now with access to his arms, Sam pulled out the keys and unlocked the Impala, and reached down to open the back door, revealing the inside of the car.

For a moment, Dean’s heart stopped. There was a car seat strapped into his backseat. A giant fucking car seat like the one Sammy used when he was a baby. And Castiel was leaning over to put Dean in it.

 _‘No! no no no no no! Cas! Sam! Come on, this is ridiculous!’_ Dean fought pointlessly against the invisible bonds as Cas laid him gently in the seat. Sam leaned in after Castiel pulled back, and began lacing Dean’s arms through straps that came from either side, bringing them to clip together across Dean’s chest. A third strap between his legs was pulled it up to the middle clip and buckled in, and Sam grasped a strap, pulling it so that the harness was snug against Dean’s chest and crotch.

“I’m going to take him on back to the motel,” Sam said to Castiel, straightening up from leaning over Dean. “The witch can wait. I think Dean’s had enough for one night. I don’t even know why I thought it was a good idea to bring him along.”

“There is a definite magic in the air,” Castiel said seriously, his eyes traveling again to Dean who was trying his best to free himself despite the pacifier in his mouth, managing only a feeble wriggle of his limbs. “Your impulses may not have been your own.”

Sam looked stricken at the thought. “Cas…I know your busy with your search, but would you mind warding the motel room before you go? You know…just in case the witch tries to follow us.”

“Of course, I am glad to assist you with Dean.”

“Thanks, really. Could you an eye on him in the backseat?”

The drive back to the motel was awkward as hell. Sam drove in silence, and Cas sat squished next to the gigantic contraption keeping Dean strapped in tight. Dean tried praying to Cas again, but that only prompted the angel to place his hand on his freaking leg, rubbing up and down. And dammit Dean could feel the asshat trying to calm him down with his stupid angel mojo!

Dean gave a frustrated sigh through his nose. He couldn’t move. Sam didn’t understand his words. Cas didn’t understand his thoughts. He was sitting in the BACKSEAT of his car, tied down like an irate toddler, and worst of all, the wet feeling from whatever he’d sat in in the asylum room must have soaked into his pants, because the strap pulling up against his crotch reminded him of it with every bump of the car.

Dean thought the night couldn’t get any worse, until they arrived back at the motel.

The first thing Dean noticed after being carried into their room was the fact that his bed was missing. His eyebrows drew together, but as he tried to look around the room (which was incredibly difficult since he was on his back looking up at Castiel’s chin and the stained ceiling), Cas laid Dean down on Sam’s bed.

“I’ll change him if you want to start warding the room,” Sam said as he walked over to the bed, unzipping a light blue bag. Dean’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. He _knew_ that bag. He hadn’t seen it in years, but he’d recognize it anywhere. That was what he used to use for Sammy’s diaper bag. 

But why did Sam have it? It’d been thrown away in a hotel dumpster the minute John learned that Dean had managed to potty train Sam. And what had Sam been talking about? “Change him”? The sick feeling in his stomach got stronger.

Dean strained to see what Sam was pulling out from the bag (because it _wasn’t_ what he thought it was, it just couldn’t be), but he could make anything out. But then it didn’t matter that he couldn’t see anymore.

Sam reached up to grab the waistband of Dean’s pants (and why the hell did his pants have an elastic waist?!), puling down the jeans to reveal…

Son of a GOD DAMN BITCH.

All train of thought came crashing to a halt. He had to be dreaming. This was a freaky ass nightmare induced by the stress from dealing with the apocalypse. Because there was _no way_ he was wearing a diaper. Sam lifted up his legs and slid a plastic square underneath his ass. His little brother’s hands came up to his sides, pulling open two tabs, and peeling back sodden material, releasing the potent smell of urine.

 _‘At least that explains the wet feeling,’_ Dean thought dazedly.

He was lying on the bed, naked from the waist down in front of Sam, the feeling of stale piss clinging to his junk.

He’d never felt so humiliated in his entire life.

Sam seemed unperturbed, as if seeing his older brother piss himself was an everyday occurrence. He didn’t hesitate as he grabbed Dean’s ankles, pulling his legs up so that his butt left the bed surface as he pulled out the messed diaper and smoothed a new one into place. Dean could feel the padding now that he knew it was there. There was a sudden cold, wet sensation on his thighs, and Dean knew from past experience that Sam was cleaning him with a baby wipe. As Sam went all over the front of his crotch, even around his balls and up and down his penis, he noticed with a jolt that he no longer had any pubic hair. But he didn’t have time to freak out about it as he was lifted up again so Sam could wipe his ass, and the cold pressing between his cheeks caused him to hiss behind the pacifier.

“I’m sorry baby boy, I know this isn’t fun for you,” Sam said sympathetically, and Dean felt his stomach lurch again at the repeated name.

Sam laid Dean’s lower half carefully back on the bed, but his hands came back quickly, wiping cream over where the wipe had gone. But this time there was nothing separating him from Sam’s hands. It was skin on skin, and Dean desperately tried to pull away from his brother, again only managing to squirm uncomfortably on the bed.

Nothing in Sam’s face reflected how _wrong_ this was. His movements were careful and practiced, like this was something he did everyday. Sam’s hand reached into the bag again, and a new smell hit Dean so hard, making his head spin.

 _Baby powder_.

Dean groaned in embarrassment, feeling the light powder fall onto his front. He could feel his cheeks burning as Sam lifted him up by the ankles one last time to shake the container over his backside and the padding beneath him. Dean was lowered once again, hearing the diaper crinkle loudly, and Sam began to pull the front up towards his stomach. A tab from either side was pulled forward and taped securely, making Dean feel efficiently caged.

“There now, sweet boy,” Sam said as he ran a finger along the seams in the leg holes. “I bet that feels a whole lot better.”

The worst thing was that it _did_ feel better. He hadn’t realized just how uncomfortable he’d been until Sam had cleaned him up. That didn’t mean he was happy about it.

“Sam,” a voice announced Castiel’s return.

“Hey, you’re finished already?”

“It didn’t take me long,” the angel answered. He was holding something in his hand that Dean couldn’t see, and he offered it to Sam. “I fixed this for you, I assumed you would need it.”

“Thanks, Cas” Sam took it, looking grateful. Sam turned back to Dean. who was still stuck on his back, and bent over to scoop him up into his arms again. “Come on, Dean. Lets eat and get some rest, okay?”

Dean was still in a sort of daze. What the hell was going on? Why were Sam and Cas acting like he was…like he was a little kid?

Dean jolted as Sam sat down in the motel’s small living area, adjusting Dean so that his head was firmly cradled in the crook of his arm. To his surprise, Sam reached forward and plucked the pacifier from his mouth. But Dean only had a second to stretch his jaw before rubber was pushed back into his mouth. Dean stared in confusion at the new intrusion, his eyes crossing slightly to see what Sam was holding to his mouth.

“What’s wrong, Dee?” Sam asked worry hiding in his tone as bounced the arm holding Dean’s head slightly. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Of fucking course. It was a bottle. A stupid freaking baby bottle. Well if Sam thought that he was going to play along with whatever crazy delusions he was suffering under, he had another thing coming to him!

No longer being immobilized by the pacifier, Dean twisted his head, attempting to dislodge the bottle from his mouth. But Sam’s grip was unbreakable, and he followed Dean’s limited movements with the bottle, keeping the nipple inside his mouth.

“Come on…when are you never _not_ in the mood for food?” Sam muttered to himself, shifting around to accommodate Dean’s attempts to move away.

Dean grunted angrily, squirming even more against Sam, but nothing he did worked. For whatever reason, Dean could do nothing to overpower his brother, and it was really starting to get fucking old!

A burst of liquid into his mouth signaled to Dean something changing. A thick, creamy substance was pouring slowly into his mouth, and a sweetness he was unaccustomed to made him instinctively try to spit the mixture out.

Only he couldn’t.

Dean tried opening his jaw wider than the bottle, he tried letting the milk-like formula pour out the sides of his mouth, but still the mixture continued to fill his mouth, with nowhere to go but down his throat.

His mouth was starting to get so full, he was afraid that he would choke. A sliver of the liquid ran down the back of his throat, and he instinctively swallowed to keep it from going into his lungs.

Oh god…it wasn’t going to stop!

Feeling panicked, Dean began to gulp down the milk filling his mouth, but even as he swallowed, the bottle continued to pour more in, and it seemed to be going even faster now. If it continued like this, soon he wouldn’t even have a chance to pull in a quick breath before it would be forced down his throat. In desperation, Dean pulled the muscles of his cheeks in, sucking on the bottle.

Suddenly the stream of what he could only assume was some kind of baby formula was in his control. He continued sucking from the rubber teat, taking breaths of air through his nose in between mouthfuls of warm, sweet cream.

“That’s my good boy, Dee,” Sam’s voice cooed. Dean looked up to see his brother staring down at him with big, caring eyes, holding Dean’s gaze in them so he couldn’t look away, filling Dean’s stomach with a odd heat, warming him to the point that he shivered.

“I need to be going,” Cas’ voice interrupted, and Dean’s stomach fell down to his feet. “Is there anything you need before I go?”

“No, no I think we’re going to be fine,” Sam said, his eyes never leaving Dean’s face. “Be safe, Cas. And youre welcome to stop by whenever you have the chance.”

Castiel left the motel room with only the sound of fluttering wings, but Dean didn’t notice. He was too busy drowning in a wave of mortification.

He was sitting in his brother’s lap, nursing from a baby bottle, wearing a diaper that Sam had changed him into. Oh _god_ what the hell was going on?!

He tried to think. _Think, Winchester._ The witch. This had to be something the witch had done.

 _‘Its time for you to be put back in your proper place, akago_.’

What the hell did that mean! She thought he was a freaking toddler? Okay…so maybe she thought he’d been acting immature. Like that gave her license to…do whatever she’d done! But what had she done? The room…the room had spun. When in all of his experience of being cursed had the world around him been affected? Normally the magic had been focused on the object of the curse…a burning sensation almost. But this curse hadn’t felt like that at all. So what was different? Maybe…

_‘I could change you as well…but you wouldn’t heal that way.’_

Maybe she hadn’t done anything to HIM. Maybe she’d changed the world around him. And if that were true…it would explain why Sam and Cas were acting so weird. It would explain the elastic on his pants, the carseat, the…diaper.

Dean was pulled back to his immediate position as Sam pulled the bottle from his mouth, and began running his fingers through his hair.

“S’m,” Dean forced out, his tongue feeling like lead after the pacifier and bottle. “This s'wrong. That witch did somethin'  to us…somethin’ to you. I’m not a…I’m not a freaking baby, okay? I’m your brother…your _older_ brother. Come on, man! I need you to snap out of this!”

Sam gave no sign that Dean’s words registered at all. He ‘hmmed’ down at Dean, fingers lightly scratching against his scalp. And dammit it shouldn’t feel good.

“You always got something to say, little man,” Sam sighs, affection laced in his voice.

And suddenly Dean’s feeling even more off kilter, and not because of the witch’s curse.

When was the last time Sam talked to him like that? Warmth in his tone, a soft smile giving off the barest hints of dimples on his cheeks. When was the last time he’d been this close to his brother? Hell, when was the last time they were even around each other without the thick tension left behind from Ruby and the whole apocalypse fiasco?

Dean didn’t even notice how relaxed he’d fallen in Sam’s hold until the gigantor stood up, bundling Dean up close to his chest. Sam walked across the room, and Dean turned to look where Sam was headed.

Across from the kitchenette, pushed up against the wall stood a crib. A Dean sized crib. Dread stabbed him dully in the stomach. He doubted he could feel any more nauseous than he already had that night.

Sam laid him down in the crib, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a diaper. Sam leaned over and placed a kiss on Dean’s forehead, which promptly turned red in embarrassment as Sam pulled he railing of the crib up, lock clicking audibly into place.

Dean just lay there where Sam left him, confused, dazed, and a little angry. As the lights turned off and Dean heard Sam get into his bed and fall asleep, the anger grew.

_‘There’s no escaping, only acceptance.’_

Like _hell_. He’d show that stupid bitch.

Sitting up slowly, Dean was grateful that Sam hadn’t put the pacifier back into his mouth after the bottle. He reached through the bars of the crib, trying to feel for the latch in the darkness, but finding nothing that would release him.

Suppressing the urge to swear, Dean stood up, clasping his hands along the bars. They reached up above his head, even standing. Well, if he couldn’t bring the bars down, he’d just have to climb over. Moving gingerly, his legs still feeling wobbly from the effects of the pacifier, Dean began to pull himself up high enough so that he could hoist a leg over the bars. Once half over, it was all a matter of maneuvering himself carefully so that he wouldn’t make noise and wake up Sam.

When he felt the carpet brush the tips of his toes, he let out a sigh of relief and allowed himself to touch down. Sparing a glance at his sleeping brother, Dean crept over to where the blue bag lay on the floor, the crumpled fabric of Dean’s pants draped over it. Grabbing the pants, Dean headed straight to the door.

If the curse was messing with Sam’s perception of Dean (and Cas must have gotten caught the after effects too), then he had to get away from Sam until he could reverse the spell or find the witch, or else he might end up stuck being treated as an oversized baby until someone out in public saw him.

And Dean was _not_ letting Sam change his diaper one more fucking time.

So Dean knew he had to escape as he slipped out the door and closed it carefully, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to accept this.


	4. Chapter 4

The second Dean was outside the motel, he tried to rip off the diaper wrapped around his waist. Key word being _tried_. He yanked harshly on the tabs, and even tried pulling them off like a pair of briefs, but the stupid thing didn’t give. Swearing underneath his breath, he pulled the pants on, stretching the elastic waste over the padding covering his rear. He wanted to get the damn diaper off _now,_ but he was more concerned with getting as far away from Sam as possible before he woke up.

Dean headed over to the Impala, cringing in embarrassment as he felt just how thick his new undergarment was. His bowed legs were pushed even far apart, and a loud crinkling sound accompanied his every movement as he tried to move to the car without fucking _waddling_.

Ignoring the stupid carseat defiling the backseat of his baby, Dean reached for the driver’s door handle. It wouldn’t budge.

The car was locked, and Sam had the keys inside the motel room.

“Shit,” Dean rubbed his hand along his face. He couldn’t go back into the motel room and risk waking Sam up. Besides, his “new” pants didn’t have pockets, so he didn’t have a room key.

The parking lot was completely empty, so hotwiring a car besides the Impala was impossible, and he _really_ didn’t want to risk messing up his car. Also, there was no telling how long this curse was going to effect Sam and Cas, and he might have to avoid them for as long as a few weeks. And…Dean just couldn’t leave his brother behind for that long with no means of travel.

“Guess I’m walkin’,” Dean grunted.

His plan was a good one, he thought. The motel he and Sam had checked into two days ago was in the middle of a stretch of road that led to several different towns. All Dean had to do was head in the direction away from where they’d been headed, and get to a phone. He could call Bobby, ask him to do a little research on reversing perception spells, and ask him to keep his location quiet from his dork little brother and nerd angel. He could hotwire a car and head out to search for that stupid fucking witch, hopefully before Sam even got to the same town as him.

Walking 18 miles didn’t seem like a hard thing to do. He’d walked farther when he’d crawled out of hell. It must have been pretty late when they’d gotten back to the motel room, because it wasn’t long after he started walking that the sky began to lighten, and the sun came up over the horizon.

Hours passed, but there was no indication that Dean was getting any closer to another town. Walking was uncomfortable. The large girth between his legs made normal steps impossible, and the disposable fabric started chaffing on his thighs after the first hour. He was really starting to regret not taking his car.

All of a sudden, the sound of a truck engine was approaching from behind him. There hadn’t been a single car on the road since he’d started walking, and Dean was sorely tempted to flag the guy down and ask for a lift for the rest of the way. But his current state of dress made him hesitate. His t-shirt only just met his belly button, and the elastic of the pants didn’t fully cover the top of the diaper. Dean was sure the plastic was visible, and the prospect of a free ride just wasn’t worth the humiliation of being caught wearing a _diaper_ of all things.

Still…there was no telling how far away he was from a phone…

Dean was saved the trouble of deciding as the truck pulled past him, slowing down and pulling to a stop not ten feet from him.

The driver side door opened up, and an older looking man jumped down from the car. “Hey there son,” the man called, taking slow steps towards him. “What’rya doin’ way out here?”

Pulling the bottom of his shirt down self consciously, Dean fought to keep himself from blushing. “Uh…you gotta phone on you? I really need to make a call.”

The man stopped a foot from him, and gave him a curious look. “Well…I ain’t got a phone on me, but I can take ya into town to find one.”

“Sure you don’t mind?” Dean said, trying not to look too relieved that he wouldn’t have to walk anymore.

“Course I don’t,” the man said gruffly. He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and began walking him towards the passenger door. Dean instantly grew suspicious. This guy seemed way too eager to get him up into the truck. But if he was being honest, this guy was scrawny and old, and if worse came to worse, Dean knew he could defend himself against this guy _easily_.

So he let himself be steered towards the truck, and the man opened up the door, offering a “watch yer step, there,” as he held an arm out, like he expected Dean to grab onto it. Once Dean was seated, the man shut the door, and Dean watched him jog around the front of the truck back to the driver’s side.

“Freak…” Dean muttered underneath his breath as he pulled on the seatbelt.

“Sorry I ain’t got no back seat,” the man said as he hauled himself up. He looked over at Dean and blinked in surprise. “Well! Look’t you! Already buckled up an’ ready to go!” he chuckled, completely unaware of the odd look Dean gave him.

Soon they were driving, and Dean was sitting tensely, just waiting for this guy to make a weird move. But the man kept his eyes on the road, only glancing at him when Dean would shift in his seat, unused to the feeling of the padded diaper beneath his ass.

“So, who left you out this far, son?” The man asked, breaking the heavy silence.

“Uh…” Dean said uncomfortably, wondering if it was a good idea to share information with this guy or not. “I wasn’t left, I just…needed a little space from my brother. You know how it is,” he said vaguely, hoping it would be enough to make the guy back off.

The man just “hmmed” in response, and Dean saw the lines in his face deepen as he frowned.

Okay…something was definitely _off_. Dean opened his mouth to ask this guy what the hell his deal was, when he noticed that they’d finally reached a town.

“So…thanks for the lift, man,” Dean said, trying to indicate that he could drop him off any time now.

“I’m just gonna take you to the hospital. They’ll let’cha make yer phone call there…free of charge!” he said, giving Dean a small wink.

That was it. Dean wanted out of this truck _now_.

But then the truck was pulling over into a parking lot, and the man stopped. Immediately Dean was hopping down, heading straight towards the hospital doors.

“Hey! Hey kid, wait a minute!” the man called after him, but Dean wasn’t spending a second longer near him or his truck.

He walked into the hospital and looked around. It looked like the pediatric unit. People sitting in waiting chairs all had little kids and babies around them, and everyone seemed to be looking at him. Ignoring the chilling feeling from so many eyes, he walked up to the front desk where a nurse was sitting, looking at him with a little surprise.

“What can I do for you, sweetie?” she asked, her voice light and kindly.

“I’m sorry to barge in here, but do you think I could borrow your phone for a minute?” Dean asked, fidgeting nervously.

“Of course,” she said immediately, standing up and giving him a large smile. “Just come on back behind the desk and you can use my phone, okay?”

Dean walked through the half door she opened for him, and walked to the desk phone she indicated. Just as he picked up the phone and started dialing Bobby’s number, the man from the truck came in to the waiting room. He looked around nervously until his eyes landed on Dean, who specifically ignored him.

Dean could hear the dial tone in his ear and watched as the nurse left the station to talk to the man. His brow was furrowed, and as he talked, Dean could see the nurses’ face growing more concerned as well.

He needed to make this quick and get the hell out of here.

Suddenly there was a voice on the other end of the phone, gruff and angry sounding. “Whadya want?”

“Bobby!” Dean said, sighing in relief at the familiar voice. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear your voice.”

“Dean?!” Bobby said loudly, and Dean could hear something crash on the other side of the line. “Dean, is that you?”

“Whoa, Bobby, calm down! Yeah its me…listen me and Sam ran into the witch, and she-”

“WHERE IN THE WORLD HAVE YOU BEEN, BOY!” Bobby yelled over the phone, startling Dean so much he nearly dropped the receiver.

“What?” Dean said, feeling really fucking _confused_. “We called you three days ago!”

“Do you have ANY idea how worried your brother is?”

“Bobby, Sam’s my whole problem! The witch got us, got him! Some kind of perception spell, I think. I need to keep away from him until I can get this reversed or –”

“Dean,” Bobby cut him off again, his voice sounding a lot calmer but dangerously serious. “I need you to tell me where you are. You’ve been missing for hours, and Sam and Cas are goin’ crazy looking for you!”

“Didn’t you hear anything I just said?!” Dean hissed into the phone. Glancing up, he saw the trucker leaving the hospital, and the nurse was coming back over to him, looking intently at him. Shit…he had to get off the phone quick.

“Are you hurt?” Bobby talked continuously. “Dee, is there an adult around you anywhere? Can you give the phone to one of them? Come on, I need you to be a big boy and help Uncle Bobby.”

Dean’s stomach dropped to the floor.

Then there was a hand grabbing the receiver from him – the nurse.

“Hey, no! Give that back!” Dean yelled desperately, trying to wrench the phone back from her, but someone was grabbing him underneath his arms from behind, and he was being _lifted into the air._

“Hello?” The nurse began speaking to Bobby as Dean was settled against the hip of a nurse that Dean hadn’t seen before. “This is the Family Center Hospital in Deston.”

Dean struggled against the younger nurse, kicking his legs to try and get to the ground, but for all his efforts, the woman just hitched him back up more securely in her grip.

“My, my! You’re a fussy little boy, aren’t you?” She said in baby voice, reaching into the pocket of her scrubs.

“Dammit! Just let me go-” was all he managed to say before a new pacifier was pushed into his mouth, and this one had the same effect, forcing his limbs to shut down so that he was compliant in the nurse’s arms.

Several nurses were now gathered around the front desk, looking curiously at Dean and whispering among themselves. The nurse from before was writing a phone number down on a piece of paper. “I’ll have some of my nurses call his brother. You said his name is Dean? Dean Winchester.” Pulling away from the phone for a minute, she turned to the gathered spectators. “Someone call this number, and tell Mr. Winchester that we have his brother Dean, and that a man driving along the highway saw him alone and brought him in. And Lucy,” she said, turning to the nurse holding Dean. “Take ‘im upstairs to the nursery and clean the poor dear up. Look over him and make sure that he’s all right. Check for any kind of bruising or tender places.”

The nurse – Lucy – nodded and turned around, Dean held up close against her shoulder.

“Mr. Singer, would you mind if I asked you a few questions about Mr. Winchester and his brother?” Dean heard the nurse talking into the phone as Lucy carried Dean towards an elevator.

Dean couldn’t fucking believe what was happening. These people…they thought he was a baby, and judging from his short conversation with Bobby, so did he. The witch’s spell hadn’t just affected Sam and Cas, making this curse a lot more powerful than he’d first thought. And since everyone thought he was a baby…

What the _hell_ was he going to do?!

"Come on, handsome boy,” Lucy said in her simpering voice. “Why don’t we get you all cleaned up in a nice warm bath?”

_Fuck._

_ _


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! So I made a tumblr, and I'm all for ficlet requests! Send me anything you want, and hopefully I'll take it :) I'm[maaahksheppard](http://maaahksheppard.tumblr.com/) and could totally use some followers! :) Also sorry for the apparent OC's...there had to be strangers, and I needed to give them names so I wasn't saying "the nurse" ever like four seconds. They won't be in the story long! Hope you like this chapter!**

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The second floor of the hospital was obviously more secured than the first floor. The nurse carrying him, Lucy, had to scan the badge clipped to the bottom of her shirt to open every door they went through. The deeper Dean was carried through the hospital, the more he realized that escaping from here would be nearly impossible.

The floor wasn’t empty either. There was a nurse’s station at every corner, and men and women wearing soft pink scrubs walked down the hallways, gently pushing wooden carts with plastic tubs on top. Glancing into one as it passes by, Dean saw a tiny little face, surrounded by pink and blue blankets. Baby cradles on wheels.

A door opens up as they pass, and a male nurse comes out, pushing one of the carts. “Say bye-bye to mommy! We’ll see her soon, okay?” he says down to the infant lying in the tub.

He’s being carried through the maternity ward of a hospital, and he’d very much like to shrivel up and die now.

The man stats pushing the cart in the same direction that Lucy is walking, and his eyes move towards Dean. “And who’s this little guy?” he says, reaching up a hand to tickle at Dean’s stomach.

“A Mr. Dean Winchester, at your service,” Lucy says in her overly playful tone, giving Dean an extra bounce in her arms for good measure. “You’ll never guess where he came from. Some trucker driving down the highway saw him walking around by himself. He put him in his truck and drove him to the nearest place he could think of.”

“You’re kidding!” the guy said, his eyes had gone wide. “He hardly looks big enough to be walking! Where’s his parents?”

“We got no clue on the parents. Apparently he told the trucker he needed to make a phone call, and that he was trying to get away from his brother.”

“Huh…” the man said, and the conversation came to an uncomfortable end. “Well, I’m not gonna keep you. Lucy will make you feel all better kiddo, don’t you worry one bit!”

The man flashed his badge and stood back to let the nurse carry Dean through first. The room was large and primarily white, a large window showed into the hallway. The wooden carts, each carrying its own infant, filled the floor space, and nurses walking among them cooed at the ones making noise.

Dean was taken to the a door at the back of the room, and as Lucy backed through the door, she called to a nurse sitting at a computer, “Mitch, I might need the camera in just a minute, if you don’t mind getting it for me.”

The man didn’t turn his eyes away from the screen, but he said, “Yeah of course, I’ll bring it right now.”

As the nurse got up from the desk, the door closed in front of Dean, and Lucy turned around to set Dean down. He was placed on his back, a hard sort of padding beneath him that smelled strongly of plastic and disinfectant.

“Alrighty, lets get started little guy!” Lucy said happily, her eyes smiling down at Dean, completely oblivious to the panic rising in his stomach.

Her hands reach for his pants first. The elastic stretched over his padded bottom as she pulled the jeans down his legs in one quick sweep, leaving the diaper wrapped around his crotch on full display. Dean groaned in embarrassment. This was a fucking _nightmare_. This girl had to be only a little younger than he was. With long blond hair and a small figure, she looked just like a girl he might pick up from a bar.

But here he was in a freaking _diaper_.

“What’s the matter sweetheart?” her hands came up gently to his hips. “Do you have boo-boo’s on your legs? I see a little rash…” her fingertips brushed along his inner thighs, just below the legs of the diaper, where he’d gotten chaffed from walking in the plastic, and Dean twitched back at the feeling. “Poor baby, that can’t feel good.”

She turned her attention to his t-shirt, grabbing the material and pulling it upwards. It took a moment of awkward maneuvering of his arms until she got the fabric free, and then he was shirtless.

Dean heard a small intake of breath. “Oh my god, where did these come from?” Lucy’s voice had lost some of its childish tone. Dean’s blood ran cold. His scars.

Dean couldn’t see where the nurse’s eyes were looking, but he didn’t have to. He didn’t have all the scars he’d accumulated throughout his entire life…those had been healed when Cas had “remade his body” or whatever. But a hunter never stays unblemished long, especially in the middle of the apocalypse.

She could be looking at the thin curved line just below his belly button left behind from a demon’s knife that had caught his stomach. Or the scratches across his chest left behind from the fence when he’d run away from the Croats in the hellish future Zachariah had sent him to. Or maybe the fucking _handprint_ from when Cas “raised him from perdition” that had never quite faded away. Hell…or any one of the numerous scars that littered his entire body left behind from monsters and humans alike.

Some were fresher than others, the skin still slightly pink instead of the white it would eventually come, and a trained nurse would definitely be able to tell that.

Dean felt his stomach sinking, and he wondered what the camera Lucy had asked about earlier was for.

A knock on the door interrupted Lucy’s staring and Dean’s increasingly panicked thoughts.

The nurse from before, Mitch or something, walked in, camera held in his hand. “Watcha got, Lucy?”

“Little boy found out by the road,” she murmured, eyes looking back down at Dean’s exposed skin.

“You sure it’s a boy?” he said, peering over her shoulder at Dean dramatically. “Looks too pretty to be a boy. Must be a girl, and some dumbass didn’t check properly.”

Dean felt his face flush red in anger and mortification, despite the fact that the man was obviously joking. A smile pulled up the corners of Lucy’s mouth and she gave a short laugh. “Stop! You shouldn’t swear in front of little kids!”

“Its not like he’s old enough to understand. You could say whatever you want around these little fuckers and it just goes in one ear and out the other.”

“Still, I doubt the parents would be too happy to hear you swearing around their precious angels,” Lucy took the camera from his hands and turned back to Dean.

“Jesus Christ…what the hell happened to him?” Mitch said, now staring down at Dean with the same attention Lucy had.

“I told you, he was found out by the road. I have no idea what caused all these.”

Dean shut his eyes as he heard the click of the camera start. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be on this table, half naked, and scrutinized by two strangers. He didn’t want them to take pictures of his scars, like he was an abused child.

Realization socked him in the gut. That was _exactly_ what they were doing. They thought he was a baby, and they were documenting what they thought were signs of abuse.

With a newfound strength, Dean writhed on the table, twisting his body in an attempt to sit up, to spit the pacifier out of his mouth, to explain how this was just a misunderstanding…a big, fucked up mistake.

“Shh, baby its okay,” Lucy’s hand pressed down on his chest, forcing his body back against the table. “Mitch, I need to clean him up and enter him into the system.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, his voice no longer light as he took the camera back from Lucy. “I’ll just…uh, upload these. So you can add them to his file. Let me know if you need me, alright?”

Mitch left the room, leaving Dean alone and frustrated with Lucy. She left his line of sight, and Dean could hear her moving around…the sound of running water. He kept trying to move. He _refused_ to sit here and let himself be treated like an infant. The longer the pacifier was in his mouth, the more he could move his body. But his movements were jerky and uncontrolled, his motor skills completely abandoning him.

“Alright, Mr. Squirmy, lets get you in the water,” Lucy said as she came back to the table. Her hands reached up to grab the last article of clothing he had on. She pulled the tabs of the diaper off easily and lifted his feebly kicking legs to pull it out from underneath him.

And now he was completely naked.

She seemed completely oblivious to Dean’s total humiliation as she picked him up in her arms, his bare skin hot and flushed underneath her hands. She knelt down to a small tub on the floor, sitting him down in the shallow water, pacifier still firmly between his lips, and his head and back cradled in the crook of her arm.

The water was warm, but because it couldn’t have been deep enough to even cover his foot, Dean shivered uncomfortably in her hold. The way she was holding him, leaned back in the tub, he was afraid she would drop him, and, unable to support himself, his head would fall against the porcelain. But the nurse’s arm stayed steady and firm behind him, despite how tensed his body was. She held a washcloth in her other hand, and using a cup to pour soapy water over him, she began to wash over his entire body.

She started with his arms and shoulders, gently chasing soap bubbles over his skin with the cloth, her high voice humming something he didn’t recognize. Her fingers hovered over the hand-shaped mark on his shoulder, and she brushed only the tips lightly across the skin, as if she were waiting for some reaction. As she continued, moving the washcloth down his chest and under his arms, she gave similar treatment to every blemish, treating the old injuries like they were fresh. She moved down lower, pouring the water and running the cloth along his lower stomach, making his muscles spasm when she rubbed against a delicate spot above his hip. He was tilted forwards and transferred to Lucy’s other arm, her hand cradling the side of his face to keep him from slumping over. He felt her trailing up and down his back and in between his shoulder blades, before he was transferred back to his original position. Then she starting wiping his crotch. He felt his face grow hot despite the chill of the room as she covered every inch of him, paying special attention to the raw skin on his upper inner thighs, where his legs joined his hips.

He can’t help but think that he would have actually enjoyed a bath like this with a pretty woman…under _vastly_ different circumstances. But certainly not like this, treated like an invalid, made to feel completely helpless and childish in her clinical treatment. His body didn’t even feel like his own anymore. He was the same height, the same shape and muscle and scars, but he was hairless. None on his legs or arms, gone from his crotch…he wondered if even the stubborn stubble that was constantly present along his jaw had suddenly vanished as well. It was like his body had been stripped of its manhood, the signs of maturity in the adult human body. Lying in a tub and forced to stare at his own smooth skin, he felt more infantile than he had during this entire ordeal.

When she finally finished, and had thoroughly cleaned every single inch of Dean’s body, Lucy drained the water and scooped Dean out of the tub. She laid him on his back in the middle of a towel that felt slightly stiff before wrapping him up and lifting him back to the table again.

Dean wasn’t surprised when she pulled out a diaper from a drawer in the table, but he still felt a twinge of dread as she started to unwrap it. She unfolded the towel from around him, still humming that stupid song, and lifted his bottom off the table by puling his legs up into the air.

Once he was lowered back onto the table, Lucy opened a tube, and squirted a thick blob of cream that smelled god damn _awful._ It felt worse than it smelled. Thick and pasty, she smeared it all around his groin, concentrating it over the reddened skin that prickled with the application of the cream. Dean let out a whine before he could stop himself, squirming in a hopeless effort to move away from the nurse who was rubbing her hands all over his privates. And dammit, her hands were cold!  They were small and felt like the inside of a freezer, and her nails were too long, making him feel even more uncomfortable than he had when Sam did this to him.

At least Sam’s hands were warm. His nails were short and down to his fingertips, and his hands were big and felt amost–

 _Oh god_ , he was NOT comparing the feeling of having Sam and some stranger _changing his diaper_.

Dean’s attention was forced back onto the nurse as his bottom half was lifted up into the air again as she dusted him with baby powder, the smell mixing noxiously with the fowl smelling cream. Lucy laid him back down, and pulled the front of the diaper up between his legs, and began to tape him snuggly into it.

With a sense of horror, Dean realized that this diaper was thicker than the other one had been. A LOT thicker. He shifted his hips as much as he could with the pacifier still in, and felt the padding crinkle between his legs, so thick that it forced his bowed legs apart. He’d never be able to walk normally wearing this.

Lucy started pulling a white shirt over his head, lacing his arms through the holes, before she pulled it down, the fabric ending a few inches above the diaper, leaving his bottom fully visible. She took his arm, and slid something blue over his hand before doing the same to the other hand. Baby mittens.

Similarly colored booties were put on his feet, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder how there was all this baby stuff that fit him perfectly. The carseat, the crib, the giant pacifiers and baby bottles, the diapers. There was no reason for there to suddenly be all these things in his size, and he just wanted to know why the fuck this was happening to him.

Lucy was talking to him using her ridiculous baby voice again, but Dean wasn’t paying her any attention. He didn’t know how this was happening to him, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to reverse it when he was the only one who seemed to think a six foot, adult man being treated like a one year old was out of the ordinary.

Dean was lifted up into the nurse’s arms again, and carried out the door back into the room filled with newborns lying in the cradles. Lucy walked him over to an empty wooden cart, looking bigger than the rest, and laid him down on top of a blue and pink striped blanket inside the plastic crib.

She left for a minute before coming back, two bands in her hand. She slid the first one, a hospital band, on his wrist. He could make out the words “D. Winchester,” typed on the side. Then Lucy fastened the other band on the same wrist, thicker and heavier than the hospital band. A metal box rested on the top, and a little green light blinked from it. It looked like a god damn _tracker_. He absently wondered if it would set off an alarm if he were to go through one of the secured doors.

His arms were laid across his chest, and the blanket he was lying on pulled up over him, wrapping him up tightly until he was swaddled.

After that, he was mostly left on his own. Immobilized on his back in a crib, he tried to think of a way to get himself out of this, but he kept getting fucking distracted. He was surrounded by other cribs, and every few minutes one of the babies would start wailing and screaming, calling a cooing nurse over to sing and coddle it until it quieted down.

There was also the distraction of the giant window he was placed in front of. Families of new mothers came to stare into the window, gawking at the babies, and to his extreme embarrassment, him as well.

One little girl had watched him through the window for what felt like _forever_. When her father picked her up, Dean heard her voice through the window, “Daddy can I hold that baby girl with the pretty green eyes? Please, Daddy? I held my baby sister all by myself!”

Dean thought his insides were going to fall out.

Her father had carried her away, explaining that Dean was somebody’s else’s baby, and that she couldn’t hold someone else’s baby without their permission first. Dean’s patience had already run out a long time ago, and this was _torture_.

The other thing distracting him was the nursing staff. Every now and then, one would appear out of nowhere, sticking their cold fingers down into his diaper, checking to see if he needed a change. Like hell he was actually going to piss in a diaper. It didn’t matter that his bladder was full and aching, and only grew worse as the hours seemed to crawl by. He would rather his bladder fucking explode before he actually pissed himself like the baby hey was being treated like. Before the nurse would leave, they would rewrap the blankets he’d been slowly wriggling out of, trapping him every time he made progress.

He was tired as hell of this place. And why was he still here? He knew that they’d called Sam. It shouldn’t have taken any more than thirty minutes for his brother to drive here from the motel. His thoughts wandered back to the pictures Lucy had taken of his scars. Surely that wouldn’t be a big issue? Maybe they’d ask Sam about it, and he would use that giant freaking college brain to come up with some plausible answer, and they’d give him back to his brother. Not that he wanted to be treated like a baby by Sam, but it was a lot better than being treated like a baby by a bunch of fucking strangers.

The wooden carts around him were taken out of the room, one by one as the day passed, presumably going into their mother’s rooms, or being taken home. And he laid on his back, unable to move as someone checked his diaper every so often.

After what felt like an eternity of just lying there, an older woman wearing a badge that said “volunteer” came up to his crib, a blanket placed over her shoulder and a baby bottle in hand.

“Hello, sugar. Let’s get some food in that cute little belly of yours,” she said as she picked him up from the tub, blanket and all. He was carried over to the side of the room, silently wondering how the hell someone that old had the strength to carry him so easily.

The woman sat down in a chair, laying Dean across her lap, and pulled the pacifier out from his mouth. This time, Dean knew what was coming next. As soon as his mouth was empty, he clenched his teeth shut, sealing his lips tight for good measure. The woman brought the teat of the bottle to his mouth, only to find that he refused to open it.

“Come on, its time for supper now! Aren’t you a little bit hungry?” she said, teasing the rubber against his lips in an attempt to coax his mouth open. But Dean wasn’t about to let that bottle into his mouth. He didn’t want a repeat of what happened the last time, being forced to suck down a bottle like a baby to stop himself from choking. No fucking thank you. And yeah, maybe he was a _little_ hungry, but he sure wasn’t hungry for baby formula.

The woman continued to try and make him drink from the bottle, rocking the chair back and forth and using her hand to rub gently along his throat and face. She even squirted some of the formula onto her finger and spread it over his lips, as if the taste of it would make him open up.

Finally the woman gave up, and took him back to the crib, and Dean counted it as a victory. He _could_ beat whatever the hell this was.

Before she left, the woman stuck the pacifier back into his mouth when he wasn’t paying attention. He cursed himself out in his head for letting himself be immobilized by the stupid pacifier again. He knew sneaking out of this place would be hard, but he couldn’t even attempt it if the pacifier was in his mouth, keeping him from using his limbs correctly.

By now, his cart was the only one in the room. The silence from the absence of infants was odd after listening to their wailing all day. He couldn’t even hear if there were any nurses in the room besides the one tapping away at a computer. But after a while, even this noise stopped, and the sound of a door opening told Dean that the nurse had left the room, leaving him alone in the room. 

“Well, little hunter, you’ve sure gotten yourself into a mess very quickly, haven’t you?”


	6. Chapter 6

If Dean had been able to move, his neck might have snapped with how fast his head twisted towards the all too familiar voice. As it was, he jerked violently in the blankets, his eyes going wide as the witch that cursed him into this sorry state stepped forwards into his line of vision.

Her long hair was pulled back into a pony tale at the base of her head, the lotus flower she’d held the night before tucked away behind her ear, and her dark eyes looked down at him, pacifier stuck in his mouth, and swaddled in a crib like an infant. She was dressed in the pink scrubs of the hospital staff, and an identity badge clipped onto her chest read the name “Koyasu.”

“I wasn’t planning on visiting you so soon,” she said, completely unperturbed by the death glare Dean shot her with. “But I suppose even I underestimated how much trouble you Winchester boys could get yourselves into.”

Here, Dean would have normally sent back a snarky, and on occasion witty, remark. But seeing as his mouth was filled with the bulb of the pacifier, it came out as an unintelligible muffle, and he had to settle with a defiant grunt, because it was all he could manage at the moment.

She gave a small sigh, but gave him a sort of tender smile, making the back of Dean’s neck prickle uncomfortably. “You don’t even realize how much trouble you’re in right now, do you?” Her hand came up to his face, sweeping the hair away from his forehead, leaving chills in her finger’s wake. “I suppose it isn’t entirely your fault. I didn’t have time to explain before your brother came for you. I suppose I should tell you that I’m not the witch you went looking for, though I’ve dealt with her myself. She killed innocents…my children. And I protect the souls under my care. I am the goddess Kannon, mother to abandoned children, and savior of souls touched by hell.”

 _What_. What the FUCK? _Goddess?!_ There was no mention of a deity in this hunt, just some sleazy witch getting shits and giggles from the painful humiliation of others! Speaking of the witch, what had she meant that she’d “dealt” with her?

“I meant what I said, little Winchester,” the newly dubbed Kannon said, cutting across his thoughts. “The petulant witch that dared to harm the children under my care is gone. There is no more need for you or your brother to search for her any longer.”

If she was telling the truth, than he and Sam had been barking up the completely wrong tree at the abandoned mental asylum. But of course, of all the wrong places they _could_ have looked, he and Sam just HAD to pick the one with something else supernatural in it. Just what they needed…to be on the radar of yet another powerful creature.

“Oh no, you two boys have been ‘on my radar’ for a long time now,” she said, and seriously, goddess or not, the reading his mind thing was _annoying_. “Ever since your mother Mary died, I’ve been watching you and your brother. I didn’t have to worry as much about Samuel. Though his childhood was far from ideal, it progressed normally. He grew into adulthood as a child should, and gradually out of my range of protection. And it was all because of you. Yet the cost of his childhood was your own.”

Kannon’s hand left his face, moving down to tug the blankets more securely around Dean in a gesture that was almost sad. “There were so many factors that prevented me from aiding you like I would have any other child,” she continued, her voice soft and bitter. “Demons of hell and angels of heaven…they laid a claim on your soul, as if it was their right over mine. They twisted and manipulated where I would have cared and provided, they robbed you of that which I would have given you. The moment you saw your mother killed by Azazel, the moment your father placed Samuel into your arms, I felt your loss. You were no longer a child…all innocence was gone. John Winchester played right into the hands of the angels, expecting you to behave as an adult far before your time. He forced you from your childhood, and you went without complaint for the soul reason that you could save your brother from the same fate.”

And now, Dean was _pissed_. John hadn’t _forced_ him to do anything. Yeah he wasn’t the best father, but he damn well did his best. Dean wasn’t robbed of his childhood, he’d been a kid! But he’d known from an early age what the real world was like, and he’d prepared himself for it, to defend Sammy from it. Sam had never really understood the world like Dean did. He’d had to grow up because if he hadn’t, neither he nor Sam would even be alive.

There was a sigh from the goddess, and suddenly she was pulling the pacifier from his mouth. “You misunderstand me, Dean,” she said, her face hard. “You don’t understand how wrong your life has been. But now I’m doing what I should have done a very long time ago. I’m giving you back your childhood.”

“By what?” Dean spat, his throat dry and unused. “Putting me in _diapers_? Fucking with everyone’s heads so they treat me like something I’m clearly _not_?”

“I know that you can’t see it yet, but this is a blessing,” she said patiently. “I’m only doing what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, well I don’t need your fucking favors!”

The goddess’ face grew hard again, and Dean felt like cowering beneath the blankets as her eyes stared domineeringly down at him. “You were wronged, Dean Winchester,” she said, the power of her voice seeming to shake the very room. “You were stolen from my protection, and I could do nothing. But now I know how I can heal the damage done to you. You gave your brother the love you desperately needed, but were denied your whole life. Now I’m ensuring that the favor is returned. To anyone who looks or thinks on you, you will be a child, dependent on their love and care. I’ve seen the arrogance and attitude you’ve adopted to separate yourself from the world, so I’ve stripped away your ability to close yourself off. In order for you to heal, you must learn to depend on those around you. No matter where you try to go, you will be no more than an infant.”

A cold fear was seizing up the muscles of his throat. “N-no! No you can’t do this! The angels and demons…there’s a fucking apocalypse going on, in case you haven’t noticed!”

Kannon’s face remained firm. “Believe me, little one. I have noticed.”

“Then you know what’s at stake,” Dean hissed. “The angels want to use me to blow this entire planet to bits! If I can’t defend myself, then they win! This planet and all the people on it are gone!”

“I know your role all too well, which is why I know that this is best. I could have reverted you to the beginning of your childhood completely,” she said coolly, and Dean felt a sharp pang in his gut. I could have removed your memories and regressed your body back to true infanthood. But I don’t do things unnecessarily. Despite the terrible life you’ve been forced to endure, you haven’t lost your capacity to love, as many before you have. No…you were damaged in a different way. You don’t know how to _be loved_.”

“Screw you!” Dean yelled, fighting to sit up with muscles that still wouldn’t cooperate. “What the hell does that even mea-nmph!”

The pacifier was forced into his mouth again. God _DAMN_ it!

“You’ll need your brother now more than even, Dean,” Kannon said, sounding for all the world like a stern mothering chastising a child. “Soon you’ll see that.”

The goddess turned her head towards the empty desk behind Dean, her eyes flashing gold before she looked back at Dean, who was struggling frustratedly in his bindings.

“This hospital was going to take you away from your brother,” she said softly. Dean stopped fighting immediately. “He’s been here all day, being interviewed by Child Protective Services, arguing with the staff. With the evidence they’ve collected, legally they can do with you what they want. They could keep you in the maternity ward here until your brother proved himself to be a fit guardian. They could send you to a foster family. They could list you for adoption.”

No…no no no…CPS…it’d been fucking _years_ since he’d had to worry about CPS. He wasn’t a child…he was a fucking adult. But not anymore…not because of this stupid witch (or whatever the hell she was) who decided to screw with his life. And now they were going to cart him away, make sure he never saw Sammy again. He felt his eyes burning, his throat closing, his head spinning, the room blurring.

Fucking hell.

A hand came up to brush at tears that hadn’t truly even formed yet. “But having you in the care of someone else would defeat the primary purpose of my blessing,” Kannon said, her hand trailing along his face in a gesture that _should_ have been creepy. “I’ve erased all evidence they could possibly use against Samuel, and ensured that they allow him to take you out of here.”

That shouldn’t have made his chest flood with relief, but it did. This whole mess, the entire “childhood” and “love” spiel, was still a pile of shit. He didn’t want to be stuck with a pacifier in his mouth. He didn’t want to be cooed at like he didn’t understand fucking English. He didn’t want to be forced to drink from bottles, or be carried around, or be forced to wear stupid fucking diapers.

But at least he’d still have Sammy.

“They’ll take you down to him soon. But I won’t be here next time to fix everything. Take my advice, little hunter. You _won’t_ get away. Just give in and let yourself _be loved_.”

The goddess was gone, leaving behind a sense of hopelessness that Dean could practically taste on the air. True to her word, a few nurses came into the room a few minutes later, Lucy among them. She unwrapped Dean from the blankets, sticking her fingers down into the front of the diaper, and frowning slightly as she pulled them back out.

Another nurse came forwards, unclipping the band with the metal box from his wrist, but leaving the hospital wristlet on. Dean was wrapped up again, looser this time, and pushed out into he hallway and towards the elevator. Towards Sam. Towards a possible _lifetime_ of being treated like a baby by his family and anyone he ever had contact with _ever again_.

The thing about Winchesters was that they didn’t just “give in.” They fought tooth and nail until their last breath…until the very end.

And Dean was no exception.

 ~*

Sam was about to lose his shit.

It’d been bad enough to wake up in the motel room to see the crib empty, to see that his baby brother wasn’t safe and asleep where he’d left him. He’d called Castiel in a half prayer, half scream.

Dean was _gone_.

Terrifying images flashed through his head of what might have happened. The witch had gotten through Cas’ wards, taking Dean as some sort of sacrifice or her next victim. But then why would she have left him alive? Wouldn’t she have killed him while he was asleep and vulnerable? The next thing on his list was demons. But hell wanted him just as badly, if not more, than they wanted Dean. Surely they wouldn’t have left him behind when they could have delivered Lucifer’s vessel straight to their master? But if it hadn’t been the witch, or demons, then that left only…

The angels must have Dean.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t hurled at the idea.

What kind of a shit brother was he? To let someone that dependent on him, his own _family_ , slip through his fingers and into the hands of the enemy.

He could only imagine with horror what those bastards were doing to him.

But Castiel, no less frantic than Sam, if more controlled, couldn’t believe that an angel could have found them, much less have taken Dean away without raising some kind of fuss. The shreds of angel radio he was still connected to showed no signs of frantic or joyous news, which he was certain would _not_ be the case if Heaven had indeed managed to harvest the “Righteous Child” into their clutches.

But that still left them with no idea what happened, and where the hell they could even begin to look.

Bobby had been called immediately, and the old hunter had set to work going through all the contacts he knew in the area to find anyone who might have seen what had happened.

The motel manager was of no help. He’d apparently been drunk all night, and the security cameras he was required by law to maintain had been broken and unable to function for months.

Sam didn’t know what to do.

He drove back to the nearest town, asking around at the people who had seen them come through the town the day before, but no one had seen anything.

And then, early afternoon, he’d gotten the phone call from the hospital in Deston, eighteen miles away from the motel.

Dean had been picked up along the side of the highway, and was being taken care of.

Sam had never dared drive the Impala faster.

But the nightmare wasn’t over. Upon arriving, the staff treated him coldly, and asked him to answer a few questions, and he knew that he was in deep shit.

Abuse. They thought he was abusing his little brother. He almost hurled again, and when they told him that Dean had said he was trying to “get away” from his brother, he actually did.

He wanted to see Dean, take him away from the hospital, make sure he was safe, but the staff wouldn’t even let him see Dean.

The CPS was going to take his baby brother from him.

He didn’t know what to do. He knew that he’d screwed up…that he kept screwing up. But who else was going to keep Dean safe? No one else would know how to protect Dean from spirits, or monsters, or demons, or angels. No one else could _possibly_ care for his baby boy more than he did.

He was about to call Castiel into action, to grab Dean and disappear to Bobby’s. He didn’t care that he’d have the law on his ass again. He had to get Dean somewhere safe…even if Dean didn’t want him anymore.

And then the staff was visibly agitated. The woman in charge of pediatrics told him that they would be bringing Dean down now, and he would be discharged into his care immediately.

Sam was completely taken aback…but also so fucking relieved. They were giving Dean back. But still…why the change of heart? And what about what Dean had said? This entire day had been a living nightmare, and he was tired and so _fucking confused_ , and he just needed to see that Dean was all right, that his stupid mistakes hadn’t cost his brother any more than they already had.

The elevator next to the waiting room where Sam sat (fidgeting) opened, and a blond nurse walked out, pushing a wooden cart with a familiar freckled baby.

Sam was up and to them in an instant.

“D-Dean?”

* * *

_So Koyasu Kannon is an actual goddess. There’s a lot of gods and goddesses with the name Kannon, and also a lot of conflicting information, but that’s to be expected, right?_

_Also, Sam POV, “yay!” or “nay!”?_

_hit me up on[tumblr](http://maaahksheppard.tumblr.com) :0 feel free to send me prompts as well :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look me up on tumblr, and feel free to send me prompts :) maaahksheppard.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this hasn't been updated in a while, I had a friend go through a personal crisis, and it really demanded most of my attention. I've usually have two chapters written in advance, but my entire document turned into *** stars unexplainably, and I lost all of the newest stuff I was working on. Thankfully I was able to get most of my story back, but now I'll have to re-write a lot and thats just a pain. Well, Hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Also I've made a deviant art account. I don't have a lot of stuff uploaded, because I've been distracted, but I do a lot of doodles to go along with this story, and I posted one of the crappier ones already to test out posting. Ignore my shoddy attempts at anatomy! my name is just 
> 
> slunne
> 
> same as here!
> 
> http://slunne.deviantart.com

Nothing could have prepared Dean to see Sam after the day of separation. As soon as the elevator doors opened, the air felt thick with misery and desperation. From the plastic bin he was confined to, Dean’s eyes instantly found his brother. Sam’s eyes were puffy and red, and his hair disheveled in every which way. He was still dressed in the clothes from the night before, and he looked about two seconds away from throwing himself off a cliff. But it was the voice that really did him in, the broken stutter of his name that slipped passed the chewed up lips, “D-Dean?”  
  
“S’mmy?” it came out without his permission, garbled behind the bulb of the pacifier in his mouth, and nearly intelligible. But Dean couldn’t help it. He hadn’t seen Sam look so upset in such a long fucking time, and it made his heart freeze in his chest to see him this worked up.   
  
Even though it was barely even audible, it appeared to be enough for Sam. Not even a second later, he was crossing the few feet from where he stood to Dean, his big arms reaching down and around Dean’s entire body to lift him up out of the crib and to settle his head in the crook of Sam’s neck. Dean could only squirm uncomfortably in Sam’s hold, forced to breath in the scent of Sam’s soap and cologne as he felt the great, shuddering breaths heaving their way through Sam’s chest as he clutched at Dean like he might disappear any second.   
  
It was awkward. Being completely supported by Sam’s hands, cradling his neck and back, and his arm holding him under his thickly padded butt. Dean could hear Sam sniff heavily through his nose, and his brother turned his head to press his lips against Dean’s forehead. And through the blush now creeping down his face and back, Dean was at least thankful that Sam wasn’t actually crying…he just might have died on the spot.   
  
It felt like they stayed there, being watched by anyone and everyone in the waiting room of the hospital, for a fucking eternity before God (if that fucker was still out there) seemed to take pity on Dean, and Sam spoke.  
  
“Christ, you scared me so bad, baby boy. I thought…I thought you…I don’t even know what I thought.”  
  
Sam was rambling, like a seriously upset Sam always did. Dean’s insides couldn’t help but writhe at Sam’s words, his conversation with the fucking goddess upstairs weighing down on him like an elephant. _‘…you will be no more than an infant…’_  
  
“Mr. Winchester?” the nurse that had been manning the front desk when Dean had arrived spoke up. “The hospital’s provided some supplies for you and your brother to use,” she said, holding out a duffle-sized bag, which Sam took and slung over his shoulder, quickly bringing his hand back to the back of Dean’s head. “We’ve included an ointment that we use for diaper rash. One of our nurses noticed the beginnings of one this morning.”  
  
“Thank you,” he said, although Dean could pick up the wary tone in his brother’s voice. “I guess…uh, when was the last time he ate? Just so I know.”  
  
“He was offered a bottle a little less than an hour ago,” Lucy spoke up, her gaze ignoring Sam in favor of looking at Dean. “But he didn’t take it.”  
  
“What about before that?” Sam said, the frown practically audible in his voice.  
  
The nurses looked at each other, before Lucy spoke again. “That was the first time we tried to feed him. He hadn’t much of a fuss all day, and we usually wait until they’re hungry.” 

“He hasn’t eaten _all day?!”_ Sam said incredulously. His head turned down to look at Dean, who’s head was still stuck on Sam’s shoulder, searching his face as if studying him would answer his question.  
  
Dean’s stomach gave a sudden rumble and, embarrassed, Dean accidently let slip a groan that sounded more like a whine.   
  
“Oh hell, you must be starving,” Sam said, and if any of the nurses minded his swearing, they didn’t say it.   
  
“We usually wait to feed until they make some kind of noise, but he was mostly quiet all day. Finally we had someone try just because it had been so long, but he refused to take a bottle. It was like he was hardly even there…he didn’t even need a diaper change. Same when I gave him a bath to clean some of the dirt off him. He hadn’t gone at all.”  
  
“That’s not normal,” Sam muttered, concern thick in his voice. “He hasn’t gone both ways in at least a day, and the last time I had to change him was last night.”  
  
And Dean wondered why the hell his bodily functions had suddenly become so _damn interesting_ to everyone on the fucking planet.   
  
“I’m sure he’s all right, maybe just nervous about being in a new place,” the older nurse said placating.   
  
“Yeah…” Sam said, not paying her attention in the slightest. He was too busy scrutinizing Dean with his stupid giant puppy eyes. “I…I think its time I took him home now.”  
  
“Of course, and we’re…sorry…for any inconvenience or worry we’ve caused you today, Mr. Winchester,” the head nurse said, though her voice sounded anything but sorry. “Hopefully you won’t lose your brother like that again.”  
  
Dean could feel Sam’s muscles tighten around him at the nurse’s words. And if Dean could have, he would have socked the nurse right in the face for talking to Sammy like that.   
  
Sam swallowed, but didn’t say anything. He hefted Dean up in his arms, the hospital bag swinging practically off his shoulder, and turned around to walk out of the hospital. As Dean looked up over Sam’s shoulder, he saw the faces of every person in the hospital watching them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pink scrubs of a nurse standing on her own.   
  
The goddess.   
  
Dean stiffened, but she only gave him a small smile, her dark eyes twinkling knowingly at him. But then Dean blinked, and she was gone.

  
In the car, Sam was completely silent. Dean had been strapped back into the stupid car seat, and was feeling every single bump and swerve from the road right down in his bladder.  
  
He really had to piss.   
  
But seeing as he couldn’t make most legible sounds behind the pacifier, and the fact that no one seemed to understand a fucking word he was saying anyway, he was kind of out of luck unless Sam decided to pull over and take the stupid plastic out of his mouth.   
  
Sam’s worried eyes flashed in the rearview mirror every ten seconds, glancing back at Dean in a way that was driving him up the wall. The familiar sight of the motel was a relief, and he squirmed in his car seat as the car pulled to a stop in the parking lot.   
  
What Dean really needed was some time to clear his head and think of a game plan. Time _away_ from Sam. But seeing how his attempt to go off on his own backfired, he’d just have to wait until he could get Sam’s laptop into the bathroom or something.   
  
Sam came around to unstrap Dean and lift him from the car, but his face was pinched in the way that usually indicated a coming breakdown.  
  
Before they had even reached their motel room, the door was opened, and Castiel stood inside.   
  
“Is he alright?” the angel demanded, standing aside to let Sam into the room as he looked intently at Dean.   
  
“I…I think so. But he hasn’t eaten all day. He really needs a bottle.”  
  
“I could feed him, if you wished,” Castiel offered, looking at Sam carefully.  
  
“I…Yeah. Yeah that would be great, actually,” Sam said, his voice sounding shaky. He pulled Dean away from his chest, and Castiel took him into his brick arms.   
  
Cas carried Dean over to the sofa, a baby bottle appearing in his hand, and sat down, arranging Dean so his head was leaned up against his hard shoulder. Dean was left staring up into Cas’ stony face, sitting in the lap of the guy he considered to be his best friend.  
  
‘Fuck me,’ Dean groaned inwardly.

Castiel stuck his finger through the ring of the pacifier and pulled it out, but before he could bring forward the bottle to replace it, Dean had clenched his mouth tightly shut.   
  
Castiel frowned. “Dean, you need to drink this in order to acquire the nutrients needed for your development.”  
  
A sort of breathy laugh came from the door where Sam was still standing. “I don’t think you can convince him to open up with logic, Cas. He’s just a baby. Besides, Dean’s stubborn.”  
  
“Children understand more than adult humans give them credit for,” Cas said seriously, his eyes narrowing in thought at Dean. “Angels made similar assumptions about humanity, and look how well that has turned out for them.”  
  
“I guess,” Sam said, his voice quiet. “Just keep trying. He’s gotta have something soon. Listen, I’m gonna…I’m gonna go out and pick up some stuff.”  
  
“I’ll watch over Dean in your absence.”  
  
Sam’s exit was fast, like he couldn’t wait to get out of the room, and Dean could recognize the “upset-Sam” reaction from a mile away. But there was nothing he could do about it, as he was dealing with a rather determined angel trying to feed him from a baby bottle.   
  
He could feel a warm tingling around him that he could only assume came from Cas’ grace. It was foreign, yet familiar, a powerful energy that made he feel dwarfed in comparison. It was disturbing how deeply it sunk into him. He felt the tension draining from his shoulders, the muscles in his neck loosened, his jaw unclenched itself –   
  
The pressure of the rubber nipple against his lips brought Dean back to himself. He jerked his, head, teeth grinding together to stop the bottle from entering his mouth. He glared up defiantly at Cas, who gave a small sigh.   
  
“You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you Dean?”   
  
Damn right he was! He was currently defying all of Heaven, the “divine plan” or whatever. Like hell he was going to give in on something as stupid as drinking from a bottle!  
  
But then there were fingers on his side, feather light and brushing up underneath his shirt towards his rib cage. Dean jerked at the sensation, his eyes going wide as the hand moved back and forth, barely even touching his skin, sending shivers through his entire body. Cas was fucking tickling him!  
  
Dean tried to push the hand away with his arm, writhing in Cas’ arms, but he was defenseless against the angel’s hands. Cas kept touching his most sensitive places, poking and prodding like he knew just what areas would drive him wild, and it was all just too much.  
  
Something gave way. There was a sudden warmth in his crotch, spreading slowly around his penis and balls, and faintly he registered the pressure in his bladder fading. Oh god, he was pissing.   
  
Dean gasped, and Castiel succeeded in pushing the bottle into his mouth. He hardly registered it. He was in sensory overload. Urine was flowing out of him uncontrollably, and there were arms surrounding him, and a face leaning over him, and rubber in his mouth, sweetness on his tongue.   
  
The formula from the bottle had started leaking into his mouth, and Dean pulled in his cheeks, sucking on the nipple before the flow could start choking him again. And all the while, he continued to fill the diaper between his legs, the stream seemingly never-ending, and no way to stop it.   
  
By the time it stopped, Dean felt like he could cry. He’d pissed himself. Lost control of his fucking bladder like a toddler…sitting in another fully-grown man’s lap. His gut churned in misery and humiliation, and his throat felt tight. But he continued to suckle on the teat, not willing to risk choking on the thick milk.   
  
A voice floated down to him through his thoughts, deep and gravelly, rumbling in the chest he was pressed up against. “Dean, it’s alright. You are safe, I won’t let anything happen to you. You are safe.”   
  
His whole world was shifting, moving back and forth in a rhythmic motion. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean realized that Castiel was rocking him. He tried to shift himself, but the movement caused him to feel the warm, soaked padding between his thighs, and he moaned in embarrassment. Castiel was shushing him instantly.   
  
“Nothings going to happen to you, Dean. Your brother and I are here, we’ll look after you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

He didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to be looked after. He didn’t want to be Sam’s responsibility. He was the older brother. It was HIS job to look out for Sam, not the other way around!  
  
‘But you managed to fuck that up,’ a voice said in the back of Dean’s head.   
  
And it was the truth. He had one job, look after Sammy. He may not always be able to keep his brother happy, but he could make sure he was safe. Make sure he was alive. Make sure he stayed out of harms way. But he couldn’t even do that. He’d failed Sam…lost him when Azazel kidnapped him, allowed him to get killed, abandoned him to Ruby’s influence. And now there were even bigger players on the board, players that wanted Sam in the middle of the shit storm. But he didn’t know how to protect Sam, and he didn’t know how to stop Lucifer, and the angels, and the demons. And he was _so fucking afraid_.  
  
Something was shifting around him, impossibly soft and sleek, surrounding him in Castiel’s arms. His eyes widened as he tried to make out the dark shapes that were closing in around him, blocking off the rest of the world, just leaving him and Cas. It should have felt confining, but it had the opposite effect. Suddenly there was a feeling of calm, of protection. Something he hadn’t felt in such a long time.  
  
A small piece fell off from the black mass, fluttering down to land on his chest. A feather.  
  
He was wrapped up in a giant set of wings.   
  
“Be still, little one,” Cas said, but his voice sounded strange. It was still deep, but it seemed to resonate through his body, ringing in his ears.   
  
It felt like he was drowning slowly, like something was pulling him deeper and deeper into the low voice and the soft feathers. A part of him wanted to sink in, forget his worries and his fears, allow himself to fall away. But the rest of him just couldn’t. There was too much going on, too much dependent on him. He couldn’t let himself be weak.   
  
Something was pulled out of his mouth. The bottle, he realized absently. A hand was reaching between his legs, pressing warmth up against him.  
  
“Let me clean you up,” Castiel said, and just like that, his humiliation was back.  
  
The feathers fell away from him as Castiel stood up, bringing Dean with him, and for a brief moment, Dean mourned their loss.   
  
Cas crossed the motel room to the bed, and laid Dean down on a plastic square that hadn’t been there a moment before. Dean lay on the bed with only the flimsy hospital shirt and wet, heavy diaper around his hips, since he’d never received his pants after his bath back at the hospital. Cas’ hands were reaching up to the tabs of his diaper before Dean remembered that he didn’t have the pacifier in.  
  
“N-no! Wait, Cas,” he said, putting out his hand to block the angel as he struggled to sit up. “I don’t need – ”  
  
But Cas was pushing against his chest, forcing him gently to lie back down on the bed. “I need to change you Dean. I promise you can trust me.”  
  
“No, really! I can use a goddamn toilet!”  
  
But Cas wasn’t yielding. He reached for the tabs again, and Dean rolled away, right off the edge of the bed.  
  
“Dean!” Castiel called, but Dean didn’t stop. He pushed himself clumsily off the floor the moment his knees hit the carpet, and stumbled towards the bathroom. The large girth between his legs combined with the fact that he’d been forced to lie down almost all day made him clumsy, and he just barely made it through the door before he fell against it, his hand fumbling to do the lock.   
  
He breathed heavily, the panic fading from his mind. He looked down at the diaper, wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of the wet cloth rubbing against his genitals. He knees and elbows were red from the carpet, and the diaper looked full and saggy. With a growl of frustration, he pulled at the tabs on his hips, trying to rip the damn thing off, but they wouldn’t move. He tried ripping at the disposable material, but it still stayed firmly stuck together.   
  
“Goddammit!” Dean swore, yanking as hard as he could, but still the diaper stayed locked around his ass, keeping him trapped in his own waste.   
  
Suddenly there was a flapping sound, black feathers falling to the floor, and Castiel was standing in front of him.   
  
Apparently locked doors were not a problem for even a falling angel.


	8. Chapter 8

Cas’ hands were under his arms instantly, and he was lifted up into the air, prompting an undignified squawk from Dean. Cas settled him against his hip, arms unbendable as Dean tried to push himself away from the angel.   
  
The bathroom door opened without contact, and Cas carried a struggling Dean back over to the bed, where he sat him down on the plastic square again.   
  
“Cas! Listen to –” but then his mouth was filled with rubber, and because of the sudden loss of muscle control, he folded back against the bed. Cas had fucking mojoed the pacifier into his mouth!  
  
He growled behind the rubber bulb, kicking his limbs as much as he could as he glared up at Cas, thinking desperately, ‘ _don’t you fucking DARE!’_  
  
But Castiel, angel of the Lord, was not threatened by the commands of a man wearing a wet diaper, and once again reached for the tabs on Dean’s hips, finally succeeded in pulling them back.  
  
On the mortification scale, Dean couldn’t decide if this was worse than when Sam had stripped him naked or not. Cool air made Dean twitch the moment the diaper was pulled away, leaving his damp skin exposed. There was no chance for Dean to get used to the feeling, as cold wipes were already wiping him down, starting at his penis.   
  
Dean choked in his throat, the sudden contact startling him, and he felt himself turn completely red. If Castiel noticed, he didn’t care. He kept the wipe moving, going up his groin and down between his legs, behind his balls and briefly over them. Deans leg’s were suddenly in the air, his bottom lifted off the plastic mat, but both Castiel’s hands were free as he crouched lower to wipe around and in between Dean’s cheeks. Angel mojo…of fucking course.  
  
The way Cas moved was clinical, but not impersonal, like the diaper change at the hospital had been. Castiel wiped over Dean’s privates with as much attentiveness as he did everything else. And _god_ , it was embarrassing to see those squinted eyes staring at his naked body with such concern.   
  
The wipe was discarded, and Cas reached into the hospital bag to bring out a tube of the fowl smelling ointment. Squeezing it onto his hand, Cas rubbed in between his palms to warm it up, unaffected by the stench of it, before bringing his hands back down to Dean. He concentrated the solution in the creases of his legs, moving up to his hips and down past his ass. The remainder was spread along his thighs feeling like some girl’s lotion that hadn’t been rubbed in all the way.   
  
Then Cas was holding a bottle of baby powder, and he started to shake it onto Dean. He kept shaking, and shaking, and shaking. Dean looked down in horror as his penis was almost completely buried in white power, the fine dust filling the air around him. Dean started sneezing, the powder much too thick in the air, and only then did Cas seem to realize that he’d gotten out more than enough. “My apologies,” he muttered, more to himself than to Dean.  
  
Dean’s eyes swam from the strength of the smell. Great. He’d be smelling like a baby for weeks.  
  
The front of the diaper was pulled up tight between Dean’s spread legs, and Cas brought the sides up to tape Dean securely into it.   
  
Dean stared miserably up at Cas. The angel looked like a god damn mess. His hair was sticking up in all directions, a wayward feather perched precariously on his shoulder. What was more was the white baby powder splashed all over him, dusting the black suit underneath the ever present trenchcoat, and turning sections of his hair grey. It was even smudged into his freaking eyebrows.  
  
Dean snorted. He couldn’t help it. Cas looked like he’d come out on the wrong end of an encounter with a powder puff fairy, and paired with his ridiculously serious expression, it was enough to push Dean over the edge.   
  
What the actual hell.  
  
He was lying on his back, unable to move because there was a god damn pacifier in his mouth, he’d just peed himself and been fed a bottle from an angel, while his brother was WHO knows where. Meanwhile, the fucking devil and every single warrior of heaven was out looking for them so they could kickstart the end of fucking days.  
  
Look out, world, Dean Winchester was wearing a fucking diaper to the apocalypse!

 He was filled with the urge to laugh and cry at the same time. This was too much, too insane. He took a deep breath from behind the pacifier, as if he were preparing to do both at the same time. 

Cas was just staring down at Dean, as if he was unsure of what to do. Dean would have liked to tell him to suck his powdered dick. But a familiar rumble sounded from outside. It looked like Sam had come back in the Impala.   
  
Sam came in through the door, and dropped the back he was holding at the sight of Castiel. “Uh…Cas, what…”  
  
“I seem to have overestimated the approximate amount of powder needed to make Dean comfortable,” Cas said, almost sounding defensive, of all things. _And holy shit_ , Cas was embarrassed.  
  
“I can…uh, see that,” Sam said, but even an angel with zero social skills could see that something was wrong. “So did...was everything okay while I was gone? I mean did Dean eat and everything?”  
  
“I eventually got him to take a bottle, though it was a trial, as was changing him afterwards. He rolled off onto the floor –”  
  
Sam’s head snapped up, his eyes wide “He what?!”   
  
He didn’t seem to hear Cas’ further explanation. Sam was across the room and over to Dean in an instant, scooping Dean off the bed, frantically searching all over his body with his hands.   
  
“Dean…Dean, god, are you okay…Jesus Dean I’m sorry please…” he muttered, his voice getting more choked up with each word.   
  
“Sam…” Cas’ voice came, soft and deep and powerful. “Dean is unharmed. Neither you or I would allow him to come to any danger, you know this.”  
  
It was like a damn burst. Sam sat down heavily on the bed with a sob, Dean pulled up close in his lap. “Sorry…’m so sorry, Dee,” Sam said, holding Dean up underneath his chin, tears dripping down into hi hair.   
  
Dean was beyond shocked, his heart suddenly deciding to take residence in his throat. He didn’t understand…what the hell was so terrifying about him falling off the bed? Sam’s arms were trembling, his chest heaving, and his heartbeat erratic against Dean’s ear. He didn’t want Sammy to be upset. He wanted Sammy to be smiling and laughing, all dimples and great big puppy eyes. A whine slipped past Dean before he even registered it.   
  
“God…Cas, I can’t do this,” Sam all but whimpered. “I…I keep screwing things up. I can’t keep Dean safe…”  
  
“You have been a better protector to your brother than is imaginable,” Cas’ said in a calm, forceful tone. But Sam just started shaking his head.  
  
“They almost took him, Cas,” Sam forced out, his voice hoarse. “Those people would have taken Dean from me in a second, put him out in some foster home, where anything from a shifter to an angel could get their hands on him.”  
  
“You would have gotten Dean back before he was in any danger, one way or another,” Castiel countered, though Dean almost thought it hopeless. “If I can retrieve him from the hands of Zachariah, I can retrieve him from the hands of humans.”  
  
“They had him for one day, Cas, and they knew I couldn’t keep him safe.”  
  
“Their interpretation was skewed by their lack of knowledge of the true dangers in the world. There is no one as fit as you to care for your brother, Sam.”  
  
But Sam wouldn’t hear it. He kept shaking his head, body rocking slightly on the bed, Dean still folded into his lap.  
  
“No…no you don’t get it. I left him…I left him. First chance I got, I went to Stanford. Left him alone with Dad and the monsters that he kept searching out. And then Dad went missing, and Dean acted like he didn’t even care that I’d been gone so long. Still smiled at me like I was his god damn world, after I abandoned him for four fucking years. But even then I…I couldn’t keep him safe, and then he…the hellhounds…they tore him apart…”   
  
Sam’s voice broke, and the arms around Dean pulled in tighter. Dean’s eyes were wide. He knew Sam had seen him be dragged into Hell, but what were his memories like now that they’d been altered by a goddess’ perception spell?

“But when he came back, he still smiled at me…still trusted me. Even with the nightmares…even though I couldn’t do anything to protect him or save him, he still fucking trusted me. And…and I had to screw it up. I left him…again…alone in a motel room and up for grabs from Zachariah while I went on some self righteous raid to kill Lilith. God Cas…if it hadn’t been for you…I…there’s no way in hell I would have gotten Dean back. But it was too late. It’s not the same anymore. I…I messed up too bad this time. Dean’s scared of me…I can tell. He hasn’t laughed or smiled since Lucifer…he flinches when I get close. He was the one person who always believed in me, no matter what, and I’ve lost his trust. I can’t keep him safe from humans, or witches, or demons, or angels. I’m just not good enough.”  
  
For once, Dean was glad he couldn’t speak, because what the hell was he supposed to say to that? Especially since it was partially true. Things had been different since Lucifer had been set free. The bond of brotherhood that had held them together their entire lives had never been put through so much. But it wasn’t broken beyond repair! It wasn’t as if Dean wouldn’t forgive Sam…hadn’t forgiven Sam already! Sure he screwed up, but it wasn’t the end of the world!  
  
Well…not yet anyway.  
  
Fuck the past screw-ups, because Dean knew they’d both had their fair share. They were still brothers, and no matter what happened, that wasn’t ever going to change.  
  
Dean knew he was in dangerous territory of initiating a true chick-flick moment, but with the bizarre circumstances, he doubted anything he did was going to make this any worse than it already was.   
  
His limbs would hardly cooperate with the pacifier still filling his mouth, but he had enough muscle control to bring his hands clumsily up from their place wedged against Sam’s chest. Dean struggled to wrap his arms around his brother’s neck, pulling himself up as much as he could, feeling Sam’s breath hitch in his massive chest.  
  
“S’mmy…” Dean mumbled behind the pacifier, trying to put into one word everything that he just couldn’t say.   
  
Sam practically crushed Dean in a hug the moment the name slipped out his mouth. Dean had to completely depend on Sam’s arms to hold him up in the new position, head on Sam’s shoulder and arms supporting his neck and back.   
  
A string of “Dee... ‘m sorry…so sorry,” streamed out of Sam’s mouth, his breath hot and face wet against Dean’s head and neck. Dean wasn’t used to leaning on someone else for so long, and he found the sensation disorienting, and a little frightening. But he didn’t try to pull away, instead he tightened his arms around Sam as much as he could, stubbornly ignoring the warmness suddenly filling him up and down his body.  
  
Sam started to pull away, and Dean was horrified by the disappointment that filled him. But Sam was turning his head, pressing his lips to the side of Dean’s head, his eyes closed as a giant hand rubbed gently along the back of his head.  
  
“I love you so much, little brother,” Sam whispered, the words barely even audible.   
  
But Dean’s stomach still dropped.


	9. Chapter 9

When Cas suggested that he should stay with them, Sam felt like he could hug him. The search for God wasn’t going well, and Castiel reasoned, “When He wants to be found, He will make Himself known.” The Amulet that Cas had taken aid his search was returned to Sam’s hands, and he felt the slightest bit of hope that with the trinket returned, Dean’s mood might improve.

Sam took the worn, black chord, and tied it firmly to the top of the side railing on the crib, like he’d been doing ever since he gave it to Dean one Christmas when John broke another promise, and hadn’t come home.

Whereas most babies had a certain stuffed animal or a blanket that they were attached to, Dean had never been without the bronze figure somewhere close by. Considering that it had been taken away from him, right after the fiasco of Lucifer escaping and terror of Zachariah holding him captive, Sam couldn’t blame his baby brother from being easily upset.

Castiel brought Dean over to the crib behind him. Dean had only had one bottle today, and hadn’t messed his diaper beyond relieving his bladder, and Sam was worried. 

Taking Dean, whose face was scrunched up unhappily behind the pacifier, Sam settled him on his hip, reaching down to peek into his diaper, just to check.

He felt Dean jerk slightly as he pulled the back of the diaper out, but the inside was still clean, if smelling strongly of baby powder. With a sigh, Sam began to lay Dean down in the motel crib. His brother squirmed a little, looking irritated and fussy, so Sam kept his hands on Dean, rubbing through his hair and gently down the side of his face.

It’d had been a long day. _Too_ long. Waking up to find Dean missing, before the sun had even risen. Frantic searching and questioning, phone calls to Castiel and Bobby, and then the interrogators at the hospital, poking him with questions and suggestions that he wasn’t a good guardian to his little brother. He still wasn’t sure about Dean. What had actually happened in the asylum when he’d lost Dean, how Dean got out onto the highway, miles away from the motel room, or what Dean was really thinking or feeling.

There was just…just something strange…besides the weird disappearing into abandoned buildings and onto highways. Something about Dean felt off. He figured it had to do with something Zachariah did to Dean. How exactly do you try to convince a baby to say “yes” to being a vessel for an Archangel?

All he wanted to do was to hold Dean close to him, make it so that nothing could ever hurt him, pull him out of this mess that they’d been dragged into. But he couldn’t miss the way Dean was acting, like he was so uncomfortable at any sort of contact. His muscles would tense every time Sam picked him up.

He would flinch when Sam kissed his forehead. He hadn’t cried at all in a long time, and while Dean had never really been a crier, at least he’d let you know when he was hungry or in need of a change.

Even now, after he’d actually sought out comfort for the first time in what felt like forever, Dean cringed away from Sam’s touch. He pulled back from Dean, feeling hurt and lost, but not knowing what to do. He raised the side of the crib and made to turn off the lights.

Castiel took a place in the chair next to Dean’s crib, his eyes staring intently at Dean, and seeming to almost glow even in the darkness.

Sam trudged over to his bed, falling on top with all his clothes still on, and the covers still pulled up. They’d hit the road first thing in the morning. With the witch hunt gone wrong, and CPS in the next town over, he knew it was time to cut their losses and get out as soon as Dean had eaten and been taken care of.

And if Dean still hadn’t gone both ways by morning…

Well, he’d bought laxatives to add to Dean’s morning bottle, just in case.

By the next morning, Dean had hardly gotten any sleep. Castiel had sat next to the crib all night, his body eerily still and statuesque as he stared at Dean through the bars caging him in. But the angel’s _wings_ were a different story.

They’d shifted anxiously behind his back, constantly fluttering, inching slowly outwards. Eventually the giant black wings encircled the entire crib, surrounding Dean with the soft shuffling of feathers.

Dean wasn’t sure _how_ he could suddenly see Castiel’s wings on a physical plane, but as far his “things-to-freak-the-fuck-out-about” list went, this new development of divine sight or whatever was not at the top.

Dean was left awake all night by his thoughts, moving the pacifier around with his tongue while he tried to think of a game plan. He needed to do some research, find out more about this Kannon woman and how to reverse her magic. Once he found a ritual that would reverse this, he’d then have to find out a way to get the needed ingrediants, and enough time alone to perform the spell.

Judging by Cas and Sam’s treatment of him so far, it certainly wasn’t going to be easy.

Being stuck like this really fucking sucked. While his muscles were no longer completely unresponsive, any movement he made was jerky and uncoordinated, and not much use to him at all.

By the time morning finally came Dean had fallen into a light sort of doze, still half awake but shut down. He faintly registered the sounds of Sam rising, and a few murmured words to Cas that he didn’t quite make out.

Dean heard the sound of the crib being lowered, and then a large hand was cupping his diaper between his legs. Dean jerked, instantly awake as his face turned red.

Sam pulled his hand back with a sigh, a concerned look on his face as he raised the rail again.

“Once we pack and get Dean set, we’ll head out,” Sam said to Castiel, who nodded, eyes finally moving away from Dean.

They started packing, moving around the room mostly out of Dean’s peripheral. But soon the crib railing was lowered again, and Sam was lifting Dean out.

“Cas, would you mind feeding him? I’ll grab him some fresh clothes and put the bags in the car. Here’s his bottle."

 

Dean was handed over to Castiel, feeling a lot like a rag doll. Cas sat down on the couch, positioning Dean as he had like the night before, and removed the pacifier before offering the bottle to Dean.

Dean eyed the nipple of the bottle warily. While he didn’t actually mind the taste of the sweet mixture, the rebellious streak in him still refused to drink from a baby bottle. Then again, he definitely didn’t want a repeat of what had happened last time he’d tried to refuse a bottle from Castiel. Until he could fix this mess, he’d have to pick his battles.

Hesitantly, Dean opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the bottle, and began sucking down the formula as fast as he could. It didn’t feel quite as weird as it had before. The prolonged periods of time spent with a pacifier in his mouth had gotten him used to the feeling of a rubber teat pressed against his tongue. He soon fell into an easy rhythm, suckling on the bottle as his eyes started drooping and his stomach began to feel pleasantly warm. Then again, something was different, the formula didn’t taste quite the same. But what did it really matter? It was sweet and creamy, and surprisingly filling to his empty belly.

Dean hadn’t even realized how close he’d gotten to falling asleep until Castiel had pulled the bottle from his mouth and was sitting Dean up. Dean blinked in confusion as Cas pressed Dean up against his chest, and began patting his hand firmly on Dean’s back. There was a sudden rumbling in Dean’s stomach, and before he knew it, Dean let out a small belch, spit dribbling onto the cloth draped over the angel’s shoulder.

“Very good boy, Dean,” Castiel said, his low voice rumbling around Dean, who was feeling rather mortified that he’d just spat up…like a _baby._

Cas removed the soiled towel from his shoulder and stood, pulling Dean’s legs so they wrapped around his waist, and Dean was left to grip his arms hastily around Castiel’s neck for support.

Cas took Dean back towards the open crib, sitting him down as Sam approached with a bundle of clothing. Dean really should have guessed that he wouldn’t be dressing himself, but the reality of Cas pulling off the white hospital shirt still made him cringe at his total loss of independence. Sam stepped into Castiel’s place, unfolding the clothes and unsnapping buttons –

“Oh come on!” Dean blurted out angrily at the sight of what Sam had chosen to be his new outfit. A soft green, man-sized onesie. “I don’t even get a pair of fucking pants?!”

But as before, Dean’s words were all but ignored. Sam reached for Dean’s arms, but Dean jerked them away, pulling back as far as he could in the crib.

“Dean…” Sam’s voice sounded tired. “We can’t leave until you’re dressed.”

Dean huffed impatiently. “Pick your battles, pick your battles…” Dean hissed to himself through gritted teeth as he allowed Sam to manipulate his arms and head through the onesie. After his head pushed through the neck hole, Sam lifted Dean slightly underneath his arms to lay him down, and pulled the fabric to snap together underneath Dean’s crotch, covering his diaper and leaving his legs bare. Cas came next with a pair of white socks, pulling them over Dean’s chilly feet.

God…when all of this was over, he hoped to hell that no one remembered it.


	10. Chapter 10

**_I'm sorry, but I haven't really done a lot of editing on this chapter. Its been such a long time, that I just want to post it already!_ **

**_Also I've done a couple of sketchy drawings of Baby Dean! they're on my Deviant Art page,[SLunne](http://slunne.deviantart.com)!_ **

**_Also Into_Oblivion has some fanart that they did on their[DevArt](http://angelwithpie.deviantart.com) page, that you should totally check out!_ **

* * *

 

Dean allowed himself to be strapped into the carseat without much fuss, but passively made his displeasure known by glaring at Sam and Cas as they manhandled him into the excessive straps. Sam tried to give Dean the pacifier, but Dean refused it, making Sam sigh. Instead, the dreaded pacifier was attached to the front of his onesie with a bright green ribbon.

Dean tugged at the ribbon while Sam had backed out of the car to get the rest of their bags, thankful that at least the hospital mittens weren’t something that Sam seemed to want to continue using. The clip pulled the fabric covering his chest out, but no matter how hard he pulled at it, the stupid thing stayed attached to him. Great.

Sam came back a minute later, and started to tie something onto the side of carseat, right next to Dean’s head.

“There we go,” Sam grunted as he squeezed himself out of the tight space. “Bet you’re glad to have that back, huh Dean?”

Dean blinked. It was his amulet. Sam had tied the black chord to the top of the carseat, and now it sat at Dean’s eye level. He reached up his hand to feel the familiar weight of it in his palm, and tried to pull it closer, but it wouldn’t come very close from where Sam had placed it.

When had Sam gotten this back? Wasn’t this the only way Cas had to find God? If he was giving up his search, then what did that mean for their plan to stop the apocalypse?

Despite the anxiety from the implications the return of his amulet meant, Dean couldn’t deny the small amount of relief he felt with the bronze figure returned. In a lot of ways, the necklace had become part of Dean.

The car dipped slightly as Sam got into the drivers seat, and to Dean’s surprise, Castiel got into the passengers seat. The car roared to life with a turn of the keys, a deep rumble that filled the seats and the air surrounding them. Soft rock played quietly through the radio, and in the otherwise silent car, Dean finally started to feel the negative affects of two sleepless nights. His eyes burned with the desire to shut, and his entire body felt heavy and weighed down in the straps of his carseat. At some point on the highway, Dean finally gave in and fell asleep.

 ~*

A strange feeling in his gut woke Dean. Groaning slightly with the need to stretch, Dean blinked his eyes open, momentarily confused as to why he was sitting in the back seat of the impala instead of the passenger. A strap pulling against his crotch, pushing soft padding against him reminded him of the past forty-eight hours.  

“Hey buddy, you sleep alright?” Sam said in a gentle voice, his eyes glancing at Dean in the rearview mirror.

Dean wasn’t much concerned with Sam at the moment. His stomach was rumbling, and he felt the urge to get to the nearest bathroom, ASAP. _Shit_.

“Sam,” Dean said, his voice slightly panicked. “Sammy pull over, I need a bathroom.”

“What’s the matter, huh big guy?” Sam said, not taking his eyes off the road. “We’ll be at the next town in just ten more minutes.”

Dean couldn’t wait _ten minutes_. He needed a fucking toilet NOW.

“Sammy, please just pull over. Come on man I’m dying here!” Dean said, starting to become desperate, but Sam didn’t react beyond looking at Dean in the rearview mirror again. Dean felt a cold fear seize up in his throat. “Sam! Pull over! I have to take a shit, okay?”

No response. The rumbling feeling in his gut got stronger.

“Cas! Sammy!” Dean said, panting slightly now with the effort it was taking to keep control of his bowels.

“It’s alright, Dean, your brother and I are right here,” Castiel said turning around in his seat to look at the distressed Dean, placing a hand on his bare knee firmly.

Dean was starting to sweat now. His body felt hot and awful and just wanted to _let go_ , but he just _couldn’t_ because he was sitting in a carseat wearing a diaper and a baby onesie, and he was an _adult_ dammit not some little kid who shit in his own pants. But he couldn’t hold it. Sam and Cas were fucking oblivious, his words going right over their heads. How the _fuck_ was he supposed to make them understand?!

“Sammy, I need to go potty!” Dean cried in desperation, embarrassingly close to tears, and finally Sam seemed to finally understand what Dean was saying.

“Oh! He must need to be changed,” Sam said to Castiel. “Poor little guy must be feeling pretty uncomfortable. We can just stop at the nearest motel.”

And then, Dean lost control. His bowels emptied forcefully, warm mush squishing underneath his bottom, and in the shock, Dean felt his bladder empty into the diaper as well.

Mortified, humiliated, appalled, and ashamed, Dean let out anguished cry. Hot, unwanted tears leaked from his eyes, and the frustration from the past two days just _let loose._

He started kicking, pushing up against the restraints keeping him sitting in his dirty diaper, his voice screaming in a full out temper tantrum.

Before he knew it, the car was stopped, and both Sam and Castiel were hurrying out. Castiel disappeared inside what must have been a motel office, and Sam came around and opened the back door, and began to unstrap Dean from the seat. And Dean was fucking _pissed_.

He kicked out at Sam, trying wildly to strike Sam for forcing him to…to…

“Dee its okay, its okay. Look, Sammy’s gonna fix you up right now.” Sam’s voice was calm and placating, completely opposite to what Dean wanted. He wanted Sam to wake up, to realize what the fuck was going on and _help him_ because…

Oh god, he c _ompletely_ losing himself.

Dean’s tears of frustrated anger turned into sobs of fear and confusion. Why couldn’t he just hold it for a little bit longer? Why had he lost so much control? And why was he crying? The last time he cried was in telling Sam about hell, and that was because it was _hell._ It was like…it was like he was becoming a…

A baby.

A scream tore through his throat, his hands coming up to fist against his head. He didn’t _want_ to be a baby. He was an adult. He was a hunter. He was a heart breaker, monster killer, badass, big brother…but now…

Now he couldn’t even stop himself from crapping in a diaper.

Big arms were pulling him up out of the Impala, wrapping fully around him and pulling him close to something firm and warm. Hands were on top of his, pulling them away from his head. He clasped his fist into the warm heat we was pressed against, tears refusing to stop as he continued to cry.

“I got you, Dee, Sammy’s got you,” a voice finally registered in his mind. The warmth against him was emitting a steady beat, a repetitive thumping beneath his ears. A heartbeat.

Sam was moving, Dean could tell, but in his frustration, he just curled inwards on himself, trying not to think about the uncomfortable feeling in his diaper.

Castiel must have gotten them checked in, because a second later, Sam was bringing Dean into a motel room, and started setting Dean down on the bed. A flare of panic raced through Dean, and his hand, still gripping onto the front of Sam’s shirt, tightened as it was joined by Dean’s other hand. “Its okay, I’m right here,” Sam’s hands tugged at Dean’s, gently pulling them away.

Dean sagged back into the bed, his face screwed up and his head feeling dazed as the buttons of his onesie were unsnapped. The feeling of Sam’s hands pulling at the tabs holding his diaper on forced a reaction out of him, and his went to shove away from Sam, almost without thinking. But still, Sam wasn’t perturbed or slowed by Dean’s protests, and Dean just gave up, covering his face with his hands as Sam started to remove the diaper from him.

Because honestly, there was no point in trying to fight against Sam, and he _really_ didn’t want to be sitting in a dirty diaper any longer.

Dean refused to look past his hands as he felt the diaper fold back, doing his best to ignore the smell giving evidence to what he’d done. The cold wet wipes were almost a relief to feel wiping across his butt and around his crotch as Sam lifted his legs to clean him up. He felt the now familiar feeling of the rash cream being applied to his inner thighs, and the light, almost tickling sensation of baby powder dusting across his privates and his backside. As Sam pulled the front of the diaper up to lay against his stomach, Dean wondered if he’d _ever_ get used to this.

And then realized that he shouldn’t have to get used to this.

Which prompted another round of tears, to the utter embarrassment and anger of Dean.

Dean was instantly lifted up and settled into a gigantic lap, Sam’s warmth surrounding him.

“Don’t cry, Dee, its okay, everything’s just fine,” Sam hushed him, but everything was _not_ fine. He was full out crying and couldn’t stop, he couldn’t move an inch whenever someone put a stupid pacifier in his mouth, and now he was losing the ability to _shit_ like a god damn adult. Everything was _not_ fine, because he was turning into a _baby_.

If he was losing control over such a primary function, what might he lose next? Would he suddenly find that he couldn’t form words at all, regardless if anyone could understand them? Would he lose his _mind_? Would he turn into a spitting, shitting, useless sack, lying around in his own waste while Sam and Castiel cleaned him and fed him and kept him alive?

And what would happen then? What would happen when Castiel realized he had rebelled against heaven for someone who couldn’t even sit up on their own? What would happen when Sam decided that looking after Dean was just too much?

He was becoming a hindrance. A burden. He couldn’t be a burden, because if he wasn’t useful, than what the hell was he even good for? There was no point for Sam to stick around him if Dean couldn’t help him. But he didn’t want Sam to leave. He didn’t want to lose his brother. Sammy was all he had…especially now in the throws of this warped curse and the fucking apocalypse. He’d watched Sam walk away too many times…too many times when Dean hadn’t given his brother what he needed. Too many times when Dean wasn’t good enough. He needed Sam…he needed Sam more than he needed air, and the thought that Sam might leave tore his heart to bits.

“Sammy…please don’t leave me,” Dean cried softly, his hands buried in Sam’s shirt.

Big hands, larger than life hands ran up and down his neck and back, pulling his head to rest against Sam’s brow. “Sammy’s got you. I’m right here baby boy, I’m gonna keep you safe,” his voice pierced at the thoughts clouding Dean’s mind, forcing back the darkness creeping all around him. “I’m not gonna leave you…I’m never gonna leave you ever again. I promise, little brother. You’re the most important thing to me. No matter what happens, I’ll move heaven and hell to get to you. I’ll always come for you. I promise I won’t leave you, Dee, I promise.”

Dean couldn’t help but to look at Sam’s eyes. They were right there in front of his face. They were warm, and safe, and honest. Then his vision went blurry, tears welling up in his eyes again, and Dean threw his arms around Sam’s neck burying his face in his shoulder. Sam’s arms were tight and firm around him, holding him close as his voice reverberated through his chest. Dean allowed himself to cry openly as Sam hugged him close, clinging to Sam as if his life depended on it.

Because in a lot of ways, now it really did.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam held Dean as he cried, his heart breaking for his little brother. He wasn’t really sure what had set Dean off like this, but whatever it was, Dean was finally seeking out Sam again, and even though he sounded so heartbroken and desperate, Sam couldn’t help but treasure the baby wrapped up in his arms.

This was his chance to show Dean how much he loved him, to make up for the times he’d failed him in the past. And he’d be damned if he didn’t give Dean everything he deserved.

Eventually Dean started to calm down, his sobs dying off as he clung himself as close to Sam as he could manage. Dean’s head stayed in its place, resting in the crook of Sam’s neck, and he started to mumble like he often did.

“Is that so?” Sam said back, conversationally, trying to make his voice sound light and happy, as if he could understand Dean perfectly. But instead of continuing to babble, like he normally would, Dean groaned slightly, and pressed his face closer into Sam’s neck.

He could feel the hot tears still running down Dean’s face and into his shirt, so Sam tightened his hold on his baby brother, and started humming _Hey Jude_ softly into his hair, rubbing up and down his back with a firm hand, trying to ease whatever was upsetting him so much. 

He felt Dean stiffen slightly as his voice began the struggle of staying in pitch, (and yeah he knew he wasn’t a great singer, but he seriously didn’t need a baby to be a singing critic here) but only a few bars into the familiar lullaby, Dean seemed to sag even more into Sam’s touch.

It took a few repetitions of the song, but eventually Sam heard the deep, steady breaths that mean Dee had fallen asleep. He didn’t dare move. Sam sat where he was, in the middle of the motel bed, cradling Dean and scratching lightly at his back. He stayed there as long as he could, but with his back starting to protest, Sam eventually began shifting backwards, carefully so as not to wake Dean up, to rest against the back headboard, turning Dean around so that he was nestled securely in his lap.

“I wonder why he’s so tired,” Sam muttered softly, half to himself and half to Castiel, who had been sitting in the room, watching Dean intently through the entire exchange.

“He did not sleep much last night,” the angel supplied. “And with the trials of yesterday, I would assume he didn’t receive much rest the night before.”

Sam gave Cas a small nod of agreement, still worried about waking Dean, especially if he needed the rest so badly. Castiel looked at Dean intently, and a little sadly, if Sam were to say so himself.

Sam often found himself wondering about the angel, how exactly he’d changed from the stiff, no-nonsense soldier that had saved his baby brother from hell, to the confused man that seemed so concerned with Dean’s welfare. Not that he wasn’t grateful, hell. There was no way he’d have been able to outrun the demons and angels without Cas’ help. Castiel was good with Dean, if a little awkward and unsure, but Dean seemed to like the angel, and accepted his presence as readily as he would Bobby, or Ellen and Joe, or even Sam. Not to mention the intense staring contests between his baby brother and the angel, which were down right adorable on even the worst of days.

It seemed to Sam that, somehow, miracle that it was, his baby boy had lured an angel of the Lord on to their side.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Castiel asked.

“Nah, for now I think he’s good,” Sam said, stroking the soft hair on top of Dean’s head. “I’ll just put something on TV and let Dean nap until he wakes up.”

Taking the remote from Castiel’s offering hand, Sam surfed the channels briefly, until settling on a show that Dean would like if he woke up, _Dr. Sexy M.D._ He wasn’t sure why the show had such an appeal to his little brother, but Dean’s eyes were always glued to the screen whenever the long-haired, cowboy-boot-wearing doctor appeared.

Sam settled back, watching Dean more than the program as he continued to sleep, and Castiel sat at the small table in the corner, unexpectedly captivated by the overly dramatic show. Sam watched as a small bit of drool gathered in Dean’s open mouth, and threatened to spill onto Sam’s chest, and took the pacifier still clipped to the green onesie into Dean’s mouth, smiling when he started sucking on the rubber with a small sigh.

Cradling Dean on the motel bed like this, it was easy to fall into the memories of his childhood, taking care of Dean while John was out hunting monsters. There’s been a lot of naps taken like this, Dee snuggled up against his chest, positioned carefully in his lap while his hands scratched lightly at the soft, dirty blond hair. Dee had never been as close to anyone as he was to Sam, not even John, even though he used to try so hard for John’s attention. Sam was the main care taker of his baby boy. That’s right, _his_ baby boy. Not Dad’s. Because it was _Sam_ who sat and played with Dean for hours at a time. _Sam_ who fixed his bottles and nursed him in the middle of the night after a bad dream. _Sam_ who bathed him and changed his diapers. Dad would have spells…spells in which he would spoon feed Dean his breakfast, hold him in his lap while watching TV, and Sam would sometimes even catch him tickling a laugh out of Dean. But these periods were few and far between, and mostly John left Dean in daycare centers and babysitters when Sam was in school or with him on a hunt.

Dean must have spent a lot of time in strangers’ care when he had gone to Stanford. He’d thought about bringing Dean with him, but the thought of having a baby as a freshman in college just didn’t fit in with his idea of normal. And guilty as he felt about it now, that had been his reasoning at the time. He guessed he’d assumed that Dad would take Dean to pastor Jim’s, or maybe even Bobby’s. He knew that either men would have been glad to take care of Dean, for however long necessary.

But with the knowledge about the Yellow Eyed Demon and his plans for Sam and the Winchester family, Sam knew that John would have kept Dean as close as possible.

Well…until he’d left Dean on his doorstep in San Antonio without even a goddamn _note._

Despite his four years of a normal, care free life, Sam slid back into the familiar routine of caring for his baby brother with ease, and a little relief.

It was just…Dean loved him so _much_. He could see it every time he looked into those bright green eyes and freckled face. After the fire with Jess, Dean gave him a purpose, and more than a little happiness.

Dean didn’t look at him funny during the emergence of his psychic powers, just smiled and laughed like always. After Dean had nearly been crushed in the backseat of the Impala by Azazel, and after their father had traded his life for his, Dean grew even closer to Sam than before. And when Jake shoved a knife into Sam’s back, Dean gave his soul to…to…

Suddenly Sam frowned. Dean had sold his soul to bring him back to life. Dean had gone to _hell_ , broken the first seal that kick started the apocalypse.

_When the Righteous Man sheds blood in hell…_

But…Dean wasn’t a man, he was just a baby. How would Dean be able to take up the knife? How…how would Dean be able to make the deal in the first place? Bobby had been there…but Bobby hadn’t summoned the demon. Dean had. But…that didn’t make any fucking _sense –_

A fog was filling Sam’s mind. The facts didn’t add up. Something was wrong…really really wrong…

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his sleep, and a smell indicated that the laxatives Sam had given him were still in Dean’s system.

His mind snapped to the current objective, the confusing thoughts from only a moment before slipping away, to be forgotten forever. Dee needed his diaper changed.

Shifting carefully, Sam laid Dee down on the bed, trying not to wake him. But green eyes opened blearily, looking up at Sam in sleepy confusion as Sam spread him out on the bed, and began reaching for the diaper bag the floor.

As Sam slipped the changing pad underneath Dean, his baby brother’s face turned red, and tears started to pool in his eyes as he squirmed.

“Hey, hey, none of that again,” Sam whispered down at Dean, rubbing his hair to try and calm him down. “Sammy’s gonna change you real quick, and then you can go back to sleep, okay baby boy?”

Dean moaned and twisted his head to look away from Sam, but didn’t deteriorate into tears again, much to Sam’s relief.

Sam went to work to change Dean as quickly as possible. He undid the tabs and removed the soiled diaper, wrapping it up quickly and putting it out of sight. Sam took out the baby wipes and lifted Dean’s bottom, making sure he was careful around the slightly red areas of skin on his legs from the slight diaper rash. He applied the doctor’s cream on the red areas, and even spread some along his butt this time, worried that the frequent diaper changes that were sure to come until the laxatives wore off would irritate his skin and start new problems. He used a generous amount of baby powder for the same reason, and closed the diaper on Dean snuggly.

All the while, Dean looked absolutely _miserable_ , and Sam wanted to make his little brother feel happy again.

Taken with a sudden urge, Sam bent over Dean’s still exposed stomach, pressing his lips right below Dean’s belly button, and blew a loud raspberry.

Dean’s shriek of surprise nearly drowned out the funny noises caused by Sam’s mouth, and his brother writhed on the bed, his arms and legs kicking as Sam mercilessly tickled his tummy. Soon Dean was laughing, like he hadn’t done in god knew how long. And Sam was laughing too.

He finally pulled back, looking at Dean’s upturned lips behind his pacifier. “There’s my baby boy’s smile!”

But at Sam’s words, the happy look on Dean’s face dimmed. A look of confusion took its place, and while Dean didn’t look like he was about to cry anymore, Sam didn’t like the new look any better.

Sam’s smile became a little sad, but he kept it on as best as he could.

“I sure wish I knew how to make you happy, little guy,” he mumbled to himself.

Sam reached down to re-button the bottom of Dean’s onesie, covering up his diaper, and out of the corner of his eye, noticed Castiel staring at them curiously, even longingly.

“Hey, uh, I think Dean could use a bottle of water, if you don’t mind helping?” Sam said tentatively.

Castiel was up at once, brandishing a baby bottle towards Sam, who felt a little guilty asking Cas to use his grace to help, but the guy always seemed excited to help Dean in any way possible.

Sam took the bottle, thanking Castiel, and settled on the bed before pulling Dean back into his lap, the same position they’d been in before. Taking the pacifier out of his mouth, Sam held the bottle of water to Dean’s lips. His baby brother sighed, but accepted the teat into his mouth, and started sucking down the offered water.

Sam looked up to see Cas still standing, looking unsure of himself, and Sam took pity on the falling angel. “You can sit with us, you know…if you want,” Sam offered, and the angel’s face instantly lit up.

Slowly, as if a sudden motion would upset Dean, Castiel sat on the bed in front of Sam and Dean. Dean’s eyes flicked over to Cas, and he shifted slightly in Sam’s lap, but otherwise made no movements, seeming content to look somewhat cross-eyed at the bottle.

After a moment, Cas raised his hand, and began stroking Dean’s hair lightly, like he’d seen Sam do before. Dean stilled at first, but quickly melted into the touch, his eyelids drooping as he continued to drink.

Sam couldn’t help but feel content. Bottle feeding Dean was always a bonding time for him and Dean. The warmth of his baby boy settled securely in his lap, the quiet sounds of his rhythmic suckling, the serene look on his precious face. The presence of Castiel wasn’t invasive, as Sam might have thought, but rather completing. It was like Cas was meant to be part of their broken little family. 

The noises from a pair of frisky hospital staff droned on in the background as Dean fell asleep again in his big brother’s arms, an angel watching carefully over him. 


	12. Chapter 12

Dean was in a perpetual state of confusion. After waking up having messed himself, which was an embarrassment on a _completely_ different level, he’d been given the pacifier again… _of course._ So he’d been at the complete mercy of Sam.

Dean had always considered himself somewhat of a control freak and a bit of a loner, so then _why_ did it feel so nice being wrapped up in Sam’s arms? 

The inclusion of Castiel into their freaking cuddle fest (because what else could he call it?) should have sent him into a completely uncomfortable state of suffering. Yet Dean couldn’t deny it to himself, and he _knew_ because he fucking _tried_ , that having Castiel and Sam surrounding him was actually kind of…nice.

Forgetting of course the fact that he was drinking water from a baby bottle after dirtying a diaper.

The rest of the day didn’t help Dean’s muddled state of mind. He woke up, still lying on top of Sam, sucking on something in his mouth. But he hardly even noticed, as the feeling of needing to _go_ hit him again.

For a brief moment Dean tried to get Sam’s attention, but Sam just started tickling his fingers around his torso, using ridiculous baby talk that Dean normally would have teased him mercilessly for. Slumping in defeat, Dean gave in as he realized he was well and truly stuck with no other options but the diaper, and buried his head in Sam’s chest as the mess left him without his control.

Sam seemed to notice it almost at once, and was laying Dean out for a change within a few moments. The dirty diaper was removed before Dean felt too uncomfortable, and before the smell was too much of a bother, but that didn’t help the fact that Dean was basically incontinent, and all because of some _stupid fucking goddess._

“Hey Dee!” Sam said down to Dean, who was stubbornly looking _anywhere_ but at his brother. “Dean,” he kept trying in a sing-song voice. “Look up! Come on big guy!”

Reluctantly, Dean’s eyes slid up, trying to fight his blush down at the fact that he was still _naked_ from the waist down, and he’d really like Sam to _hurry the fuck up._ But Dean hadn’t been expecting what Sam was trying to get him to look at.

Sam had contorted his face, his jaw hanging low and his lips pulled tight over his teeth, forcing the skin around his neck to bunch up. Dean looked at Sam incredulously. _‘What the hell is he doing?’_

Sam released the face, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Tough crowd, huh?” he said in a teasing tone. “Well, how about this one?” Sam pursed out his lips and turned back the corners of his mouth, his eyes going wide and cross-eyed.

Dean snorted behind the pacifier. He didn’t even care that was probably Sam’s goal, his brother looked completely ridiculous. Sam seemed to take encouragement from Dean’s small outburst, because he kept making faces, each more bizarre than the last, and seeing Sam make a complete fool out himself was _hilarious_.

Dean started laughing. He didn’t even care. It had been too long since he’d laughed, and no, laughing via tickling didn’t _count_. But the more that Dean laughed, the sillier Sammy’s faces got. Soon Dean’s tummy was aching with laughter, and he felt out of breath behind his pacifier.

It wasn’t until Sam scooped him off the bed that Dean realized he hadn’t even noticed Sam finishing changing his diaper. He tried to feel bothered, but with a glance of Sam’s face, Dean dissolved into laughter once again.

“What! Think my face is funny do you, jerk?” Sam said in mock anger. “I’ll teach you!”

With a pounce Dean was lying on his back, and Sam was tickling him again, blowing raspberries all over his skin, and pulling bursts of laughter from him as they rolled around on the motel bed. Sam grabbed Dean and rolled onto his back, pulling Dean so that he was lying on top of Sam’s stomach.

“Oh no! Dean pins his opponent to the floor of the ring! He struggles,” Sam gave a great wiggle, “but he can’t dislodge the champ! Is this the end? It is! Dean Winchester, world champion wrestler!”

Sam continued to cheer excitedly, grabbing Dean’s hands and waving them in a celebratory way, and Dean giggled and felt…

Happy. 

The realization settled into Dean’s gut as he lay his head down on Sam’s chest, unable to force the smile from his lips. He felt _happy_ , from playing with Sammy like they had when they were little kids.

The thought disturbed him…or rather, he felt like it _should_ disturb him. But the warm mass of Sam’s chest felt nice under him, and the way Sam’s hands came up to scratch lightly through his hair was lulling him into a general state of contentment.

Dean knew he shouldn’t be wasting time, he should be working out a way to reverse this. Especially since he seemed to be slipping, regressing into the baby that Sam seemed to think he was. But there was another part of Dean, whispering in the back of his mind, that was getting stronger the longer he lay on the bed, that felt that despite everything else, this sudden closeness to his brother was actually kind of…nice.

Sam’s hand was still rubbing his head, but he propped himself up on one elbow. “I think the champ needs another bottle of water.”

Standing up with Dean in his arms, Sam walked towards the surprisingly decent sized kitchenette, and towards a…

Oh. A _highchair_.

Dean squirmed slightly in Sam’s arms, knowing that was where he was headed, and yet, Dean couldn’t really tell if his discomfort was more from the highchair itself, or from the fact that this meant that Sam would be setting him down. Which was _very_ disturbing.

Just as Dean had expected, Sam set Dean down in the chair, and the plastic seat even had a divot that rested in between his legs. Like the carseat, the highchair had a three point harness, and buckled together across his chest and from his crotch. Lastly a tray was locked into place over Dean’s lap, leaving Dean with his feet hanging childishly above the floor, and strapped in as if he was in danger of falling out and hurting himself.

And, yeah, it was _embarrassing_ , but practically everything that had happened of the last few days had been embarrassing, and in the grand scheme of things, sitting in a highchair wasn’t _that_ bad.

So Dean just sat placidly in the chair, watching Sam prepared another baby bottle with water, unconsciously sucking on the pacifier filling his mouth. He _was_ thirsty, after all.

Castiel came into the kitchen area from the television set, sitting at the two person table that Dean’s highchair was placed next to.

“Dean should probably have at least two of these before we give him some lunch,” Sam said to Castiel, bringing over the cool bottle. Sam placed the bottle on the tray, and plucked the pacifier from Dean’s mouth with a slight _pop_.

Free to use his arms again, Dean hastily reached for the bottle, taking it before Sam or Cas had even made a move to, making Sam chuckle slightly as Dean brought it to his mouth and started sucking.

“Do you think two bottles will be enough to keep him hydrated?” Castiel said with concern, staring at Dean as unblinkingly as ever.

“Yeah, it should be. Well for now, anyway,” Sam said, pulling out the other kitchen chair and swinging his leg over it backwards. “As long as the laxatives are still in his system, it wouldn’t hurt to have him keep drinking. Better to be safe than sorry, anyway.”

Dean froze.

_Sam fucking gave him LAXATIVES?!_

Yeah, that happy feeling was _gone_.

Disgusted and angry (with Sam, with Castiel, with Kannon, with _himself_ ), Dean spat the bottle out of his mouth and slammed it down onto the tray.

He’d been _freaking out_ for the past few hours over fucking _nothing_. He wasn’t becoming incontinent, Sam had fucking _drugged him!_

“Hey, Dean, no slamming things down,” Sam said sternly.

And Dean was sorely tempted to throw the bottle at Sam’s head.


	13. Chapter 13

_Happy Holidays!_

 

I'm sorry this isn't a chapter, but I wanted to let you know I've done a quick Christmas Drabble for this fic, a time stamp about two months into the curse, so its a little bit a head of where the story is now. You should totally check it out...despite that its not all that great, haha.

 

I hope you have merry holidays! and a fantastic year :)

 

[ _Santa Baby_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2854865)


	14. Chapter 14

A few days after the incident in Deston, Dean was fully ready to declare baby food as his natural enemy.

“Come on, Dee, open up for me, huh?” Sammy pleaded as he brought the plastic spoon up to Dean’s mouth for what felt like the thousandth time.

Dean, resigned to the fact that he was stuck in the stupid highchair until Sam saw fit to let him out of it, turned his face away from the spoon as far as he could at the last second, causing the purple goo to mash all over his face, dribbling down onto the green bib that covered his bare chest.

Sam sighed in frustration, setting the spoon down on the table next to the nearly empty jar of pureed plums, of which much of the contents was smeared all over Dean’s face and bib.

“Should I get the dry cereal?” Castiel’s deep voice inquired of Sam. This had been the pattern for meal times for the past three days. Sam would try (unsuccessfully) to spoon feed Dean some type of mashed vegetables or fruit, but Dean, still pissed over the whole _drugging_ thing, refused Sam every time.

Eventually, Sam would give up, and give Dean some cheerios or other off-brand type cereal that Dean could eat using his fingers. “No…I mean he’s got to eat something with more nutrients in it at some point,” Sam said, brushing the hair out of his eyes and unknowingly smearing Dean’s “dinner” all over himself. “Even all the cereal isn’t giving him the right nutrients that he needs. But he’s just not eating like he normally does.”

Dean folded his arms across his chest, glaring at Sam petulantly. And okay, yeah, he was acting like a brat, but he did _not_ want to be fucking spoon fed like he was incapable of feeding himself. Sam wouldn’t relinquish the spoon for Dean to shovel in the mushy monstrosity himself, but at least Dean was allowed to eat the cereal bits without Sam trying to force them into his face.

Castiel observed the two brothers with a subtle hint of amusement behind his ever-unblinking eyes just visible to the trained eye. That asshole. “Perhaps I could try?”

Sam looked unconvinced at Cas’ suggestion, but Dean was suddenly on high fucking alert. If there was one thing he’d learned over the past few days, it was that Sam was easy to bully around into letting Dean have his way. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, was another story.

“Sure, I guess it can’t hurt to try,” Sam said, handing the spoon over.

Castiel approached Dean, his eyes holding all the intensity of a soldier. “Open up, Dean,” he said softly, but there was no denying the command in his tone.

There was a flipping feeling in Dean’s belly, the kind of feeling he used to get when Dad had shot out orders that he expected to be _followed_. But he’d spent the last thirty minutes fighting Sam over the stupid plums or whatever they were. He was _so close_ to getting cereal instead, and even though it meant Sam would insist on Dean drinking a second bottle later, that was more preferable to the slimy baby food.

So what if he was strapped into a highchair wearing nothing but a diaper? Dean Winchester did _not_ back down during a fight.

Dean watched as Cas brought the spoon closer to his lips. He flung out his arm, intending to shove the utensil out of Cas’ hand, but he forgot to account for angelic reflexes. Before his hand had even come close, Castiel had grabbed Dean’s wrist with his left hand, a small amount of grace shooting out at the contact, and sending a thrill up Dean’s arm. Dean gasped at the tickling sensation, just in time for the spoon to breech his lips.

Dean’s mouth closed around the spoon on instinct, and before he could register what’d happened, Castiel had pulled the spoon out, depositing the plums in Dean’s mouth.

He almost spit it out, the mushy substance feeling so _weird_ in his mouth, but instead he swallowed, his body’s need for food greater than his initial shiver at the intrusion. Dean glared at Cas, who held a small amount of triumph in his features.

“This is the last bite,” the angel dipped the spoon into the jar, scraping out the final bits of plum before bringing up to where it was level with Dean’s face. “If you eat this, then you wont have to eat anymore.”

Dean grimaced. It wasn’t that the plums particularly _tasted_ bad, it was more of the principle of eating _baby food._ But then again, he was damn tired of sitting in this stupid highchair. It really was only one more bite, and if it got Sam and Cas off his back for a little while, than could he take just a little hit to his pride?

“Or we could start over with a new jar. Perhaps creamed spinach?”

 _Choose your battles_.

Resignedly, Dean opened his mouth, ignoring the way Sammy's jaw dropped and the smug look on Castiel’s face as he brought the spoon to Dean’s lips. Sam gave a huffed laugh as Cas set the spoon down on the tray in triumph, his smile only widening as he took in the pouting look on Dean’s face.

“Okay, ten points to Cas. Now I think the baby is in desperate need of a good scrubbing,” Sam wiped at his forehead, frowning as a bit of the plums in his hair rubbed onto his wrist. “And Sammy is too. Jeez Dee, dinner’s turned into a slime fest.”

Sam took Dean’s messy bib and used it to wipe as much of the plums off Dean’s face as he could manage, before slipping it off and placing it on the tray. Dean expected Sam to go and get a wet washcloth to wipe the rest of him down, like he’d done for the last few meals. So Dean was particularly surprised when Sam instead unlatched the tray, and moved to pick Dean up, purple chest and all.

Dean just sagged against Sam’s hold, uncaring that he was smearing goop all over Sam’s shirt. God he was so freaking tired. Sam carried him into the bathroom, where there was a changing table set up. But instead of setting him on the table, Sam carefully set Dean on the floor. As Sam started moving around the bathroom, Dean recognized the fact that this would be the last time before his new mandated “bed time” that Sam would check to see if he needed a diaper change. And his bladder was completely full.

Dean felt heat rise to his cheeks. The toilet was in a separate room just past where Sam was kneeling by the bathtub, but even if Dean thought he could get around Sam before he noticed he was mobile, Dean knew that getting there wouldn’t help him in the slightest.

He couldn’t take his own fucking diaper off.

It must be some part of the spell that Kannon used, because he couldn’t get the diaper off when he tried to get away from Sam, nor when he’d tried to hide from Castiel in the bathroom, or the other countless times he’d tried to take it off since the curse began. Sam and Castiel had no trouble with it, but Dean was stuck with what felt like a pillow between his legs 24/7.

He’d been forced to wet and mess himself already, whether by laxatives, tickling, or just from holding it too long. But it hadn’t taken long for Dean to learn the limits of his ability to hold off a diaper change, and he knew that he wouldn’t last for more than three more hours before his bladder would empty whether he wanted it to or not. And by then, Sam would have put him to bed, and he’d be forced to wear a wet diaper _all night_.

Dean would have groaned aloud, but he didn’t want Sam’s attention on him for what he was about to do. Dean screwed up his eyes, and focused on the muscles in his bladder. The release came far too easily for Dean’s comfort, but once it started he tried to force his mind elsewhere, to think of _anything_ but the warmth spreading between his thighs, the loud crinkling of the diaper as it expanded and pushed his legs that much farther apart, the cool of the bathroom tile on the backs of his bare legs, the steady sound of running water, the soothing rhythm of his suckling on the pacifier…

Sam hadn’t given him his pacifier.

Dean’s eyes shot open, realizing that he’s started sucking on his _thumb_ of all things.

“Alright, baby,” Sam’s voice interrupted, and Dean spat his spit slicked digit out of his mouth. Sam was lifting Dean up from underneath his armpits, but instead of lifting him to the changing table, laid him on his back on the floor. And _holy shit_ when had Sam stripped down to his boxers?!

Sam undid the tabs of Dean’s diaper, wiping him down briefly with a wet wipe before tossing it and the diaper into the garbage. Sam then picked Dean up into his arms, and started to sit down, with a very _naked_ Dean in his lap, into the full bathtub.

**_follow me on[tumblr!](http://maaahksheppard.tumblr.com) or shoot me questions there_ **


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is a little bit shorter, just needed to get out an update before I can get into more plotty stuff!

“ _Dean!_ Hold _still!_ ” Sam grunted as he wrestled with his little brother. And Dean, for his part, was freaking the hell out.

He was in the bathtub. 

With Sam.

_Naked._

Dean groaned aloud as he struggled to get out of Sam’s grip, water sloshing over the edges of the bathtub as Sam fought to keep Dean in his lap.

“Oh no, mister,” Sam wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist, and pulling Dean back to lean against his chest. “You are _not_ getting out of a bath. You’re too filthy.”

Face shining red with humiliation, Dean ineffectively pushed up against Sam’s hold. He could feel the top of his head bumping into Sam’s chin with each struggle, but the arms never loosened around him, and every moment he spent flailing brought him that much closer to exhaustion.

It felt like Sam had grown infinitely stronger, and the fact that Dean had no leverage in the slippery bathtub certainly didn’t help his struggle in overpowering his brother. Sam, for his part, just held Dean as still as he could manage, shushing him gently and trying to calm him down by rubbing at Dean’s stomach.

Finally the struggle was just too much, and Dean slumped back against Sam, his legs giving a few last feeble kicks, not quite getting the message that their owner had given up.

“That’s my good boy, Dee,” Sam cooed into Dean’s ear, his large hands still running over him. “See? Bath time’s not so bad.”

Sam picked up a bright yellow wash cloth with a duck face printed on the material, keeping one arm wrapped firmly around Dean in case of a second spur of action, and squirted a large dollop of Johnson’s baby wash onto the cloth.

Sam started with Dean’s shoulders and arms, rubbing the cloth over the muscles in large circles, scrubbing gently over the tight skin. Dean grimaced, watching the cloth travel down his arm, Sam’s hand squeezing over the top, the bottom, leaving a trail of soap suds and bubbles lingering behind before switching over to the other arm. Sam brought the washcloth towards Dean’s back, shifting him enough to reach between his shoulder blades and the knots that had seemed to take residence there years ago, slowly working the tense muscles.

The treatment continued. Sam massaged down Dean’s chest, and over his legs, wearing down an increasingly drifting Dean, whose eyes were starting to slip shut from the warmth of the water, the soothing motions of the slightly scratchy cloth rubbing the skin of his belly, the sense of security from being wrapped up in a firm set of arms–

The cloth dipped briefly between his legs.

Dean’s eyes shot open and he struggled to sit up from where he’d been slumped against Sam’s naked chest, but the arm around his middle tightened quickly, and Sammy’s voice was whispering calmly into his ear.

“Its alright, baby, you’re okay, Sammy’s got you…”

The fight fled from Dean in almost an instant. He sank back against Sam’s hold, the haze from before trying to pull him into a relaxed state, but he kept his eyes stubbornly open.

The cloth was abandoned, and Sam slowly shifted Dean down so that his neck rested in the crook of his arm.

“Close your eyes, Dee,” Sam said, and Dean’s eyelids complied before he made the conscious decision to, just in time to feel water drizzling over his hair.

Later, Dean would try to convince himself that it’d been awkward, Sam rubbing his head with one hand and holding him up with the other, but the second that Sam’s fingers began scratching his scalp, Dean surrendered. 

A moan of contentment slipped from his lips, but Dean hardly noticed. He lifted his head into his brother’s long fingers, relishing in the feeling of having his hair scrubbed. A feeling he hadn’t felt since-

_Mom._

Dean kept his eyes shut against the soap and water, but the burning sensation behind his eyes wasn’t caused by the “No More Tears” shampoo.

As Sam let the last cup full of water run over Dean’s head, he pulled the drain to let the water out, and began to stand up with Dean still in his arms. Dean whined at the motion, he didn’t _want_ to get out, it felt too nice, too safe…

“Somebody’s a sleepy little boy,” Sam gave a kiss to the side of Dean’s temple before setting him up on the edge of the tub, reaching for a towel to wrap around him. “It’s almost bedtime, I promise.”

Dean was lifted to lay down on the changing table, and Sam used the towel underneath him to wipe the remaining water droplets off him. Dean watched Sam through half lidded eyes as he took a nighttime diaper and lifted Dean’s legs to slip it underneath his bottom.

Sam smiled and whispered nonsensical soothings to his baby brother as he applied lotion and baby powder, taping up the diaper and slipping on a t-shirt over Dean’s head.

Upon exiting the bathroom, Castiel was waiting outside with a warm bottle in hand. Dean looked at it from where he was cradled in Sam’s arms, trying to make himself feel the normal surge of annoyance that usually accompanied the sight of the bottle, but he was too blissed out to have any negative feelings at all.

Sam sat in the motel chair in between the crib and the bed, Dean settling seamlessly into the nook of Sam’s lap. Dean opened his mouth automatically, and took the nipple of the bottle onto his tongue. Dean’s eyes seemed to keep finding Sam’s, even as it became harder and harder to open his eyes after each blink.

Dean wouldn’t realize how compliant he was acting until the next morning. He wouldn’t register how easily he’d accepted the coddling and cooing of his brother, beyond how nice it felt and how safe the world seemed when Sammy’s eyes were looking at him.

Dean didn’t notice, but Sam did.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief as Dean’s mouth went slack around the bottle, nearly empty. Instead of putting Dean straight in his crib, Sam took a moment to enjoy the closeness to Dean that he hadn’t felt since before angels had entered the picture.

Despite the disaster of dinner, Dean had opened himself up to Sam just a little bit more, and that fact made Sam’s heart swell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on my tumblr!
> 
> maaahksheppard.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr http://maaahksheppard.tumblr.com
> 
> and on Deviant Art! http://slunne.deviantart.com


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